Starts With Goodbye
by SunnyCait
Summary: "It's sad, but sometimes moving on with the rest of your life starts with goodbye." Brittana future fic.
1. Happily Never After

**A/N: Alrighty... Until now I've only written one-shots for Brittana, but I feel like it may be time for a multi-chaptered story. It's a fair bit of angst, so be warned. **

Santana opened her trunk with a lot more force than necessary and then stormed back into the house, grabbing her waiting bags that she'd tossed by the front door earlier and heading outside yet again. But before she could get off the porch, a hand snatched at her wrist, attempting to still her. She didn't stop, wresting herself out of the vise like grip and turning around to face the person, tears falling from her eyes unabashedly.

"No! Don't you touch me! Don't you _dare_ touch me!" she screamed, her throat tight and burning from the effort it took to raise her voice to this rarely used volume. She turned back towards the car and briskly walked to it, throwing her luggage into the trunk with a sob and slamming it shut.

"San, I'm sorry, please don't leave..."

The brunette turned to face her wife, an incredulous expression easily visible underneath the tracks of her tears.

"_No_. Fuck you, Brittany. I'm done with this!" Santana yelled. She didn't care if the damn neighbors heard her; she'd finally had it. And this time she wouldn't be talked out of walking away.

"What do you mean? Done with what?" Brittany cried out, flying down the porch steps and trying to take Santana's hand, trying to stop her from doing whatever it was she was planning on doing.

Santana wasn't having it still, pulling away so sharply that it set Brittany off balance. Brittany righted herself and stood rooted in the spot, her mouth hanging open. Santana looked to the sky, throwing her hands up in the air out of frustration.

"Are you that retarded? I'm done with _you_! I'm not doing this any more. Don't you understand? You've been hurting me for _years_, going behind my back, and I pretended not to notice because I thought one day you'd come to your senses," Santana seethed, her words coming out choked.

It was hard to speak to Brittany when all she wanted to do was rip her head off, jump in the car, and get the hell out of California. She fixed her wife with a stony gaze, noting her shocked expression and slack jaw. Squaring her shoulders, she sniffed, knowing the time had finally come for the truth to come out after all of these long years.

"Did you think I didn't know?" she growled, looking Brittany up and down disdainfully. She let her eyes trail down her body before she rested her gaze back on her face, her eyes locked with the blonde's intensely. "Did you think I had no idea you were fucking those men? That I was blind as to why you spent so many late nights at the studio? That I couldn't smell them on you when you came home and crawled into bed at God knows what hour?"

Brittany was silent, unable to say anything and knowing whatever she could think up of to say wouldn't mitigate Santana's anger. Santana's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, unable to keep the emotion out of her voice as she went on.

"And when we made love, did you honestly think I couldn't _feel_ that you'd been with them? That you were used?"

"Santana, I..." Brittany started to say, tears welling in her blue eyes. But when she couldn't come up with any further words to say, Santana's eyes widened and she gave a forced laugh that sounded more like a bark.

"You did. You thought I was that stupid!" Santana was screaming again, but she didn't care, blinded by rage. She stepped closer to Brittany, her fists clenching until her knuckles turned stark white. "How about when I'd come to your shows, or visit you on set or the studio? Every single dancer there would look at me with such fucking pity. They felt _sorry_ for me. Because they knew my wife, the one person I am supposed to be able to trust, was sleeping with every guy in the company..." She trailed off as her eyes narrowed, a new thought occuring to her. "Was it just the guys? Or did you fuck the girls, too?"

Again Brittany said nothing, but her silence confirmed what Santana was already thinking more than if she'd flat out said yes. She let out a cry of anguish and opened the car door, absolutely sick to her stomach.

"Don't go," Brittany begged tearfully, attempting another step towards her wife, but Santana dodged, quickly stepping into the car. The door open still, she fixed her gaze on the road ahead of her, avoiding Brittany's eye contact and trying to keep from throwing up.

"Why? Why did you do it?" She couldn't stop the hurt in her tone from being obvious, but she was past that. Brittany had hurt her, had _been_ hurting her; why shouldn't she show it? "If I hadn't found you with Chris, were you ever going to tell me?"

"Don't make me answer that, because I can't," Brittany said in a watery voice, the reality of what was happening settling in as she started to panic, her hand gripping the edge of the car door.

"Don't worry. I won't _make _you do anything anymore," Santana shot back, still not looking at her wife. She took a deep breath and exhaled very slowly, trying to control the flood of emotions she was feeling at that moment so she could think semi-logically. "I'm picking up Maya from school."

"You can't take her, Santana; she's my daughter too!" Brittany cried out, tears falling. She tried to rip the door open but Santana was stronger, her anger pumping adrenaline through her veins thus giving her more strength, and Santana slammed the door shut, narrowly missing smashing Brittany's hand. She sat trying to control herself further as Brittany screamed, pounding on the car window.

"You can't take her! Santana, you can't! Don't do this to me, please, I'm sorry! Don't do this to me!"

She knew this would kill Brittany, but what other choice did she have? Brittany was one of the principles at a dance company, the star of multiple shows... She was barely home and when she was, she slept or practiced in their home studio rigourously. She simply wouldn't be there for their daughter like Santana could. That, and she didn't want her daughter to fall a victim to her escapades like Santana had. How was Santana supposed to know that Brittany wouldn't be out having affairs when she should be at home with Maya? Santana's trust in Brittany was completely shattered; there was no way she was leaving her most prized possession in her care.

"You did this to yourself!" she shouted through the glass, her every word still crystal clear to Brittany, who had paused with her fists resting on the windows, still for a moment as she listened, tears coursing down her face. "Do you honestly think you can handle her on your own? You work constantly, when would you be there to take care of her? Think of someone other than yourself for once."

"Santana, please, don't, don't..." Brittany begged, dropping to her knees in the driveway and clinging to the door handle. She tried to open it but Santana locked it quickly, her efforts futile. "Santana!" Brittany was now wracked with sobs, and Santana started to cry again. She knew she had to do it, but why did it have to be so god damn hard?

"I love you, Brittany, but I deserve better," Santana said raggedly, unable to breath properly as she felt her heart constrict in her chest. "So does Maya. Don't try to contact me. I'll let you know when you can see her."

"_Santana_, _please_!" Brittany screamed. Santana closed her eyes against the noise, startin the car. Brittany jumped to her feet, hands fumbling with the door handle again in an effort to open it, but Santana didn't give in. "Santana! I'm sorry! I'll change! I'll do anything you want me to, but don't do this!" Brittany continued yelling, her voice going hoarse as she went on. "I'm so sorry; I wish I hadn't done it! I love you!"

"No, you don't. If you loved me, you wouldn't have done this to me."

With that Santana put the car in gear and drove off, Brittany chasing after the car down the street shrieking and crying. Santana sped up and blasted the radio to drown out her wife's screams. When Brittany was not even a small speck in the distance she allowed herself to slow down, her tears blurring her vision as she pulled over to the side of the road, and she broke down sobbing, her shoulders shaking.

She had always thought she and Brittany were going to last forever, and she never would have believed she'd be the one to put an end to their relationship. Then she realized she'd also never dreamed that Brittany would do what she did, after having spent so many years together. When she first discovered what was going on, she also thought Brittany would stop on her own accord and that they could get through something like this, because they loved each other more than anything else in the world.

Apparently Santana was wrong about a lot of things.

* * *

**A/N Part 2: Well, what do we think? Should I continue? ) **


	2. I Hurt Too

**A/N: Here's your second installment. :) Roll on with the angst-y. **

It was late morning, or early afternoon, Brittany couldn't really tell either way. She knew it wasn't morning and it wasn't night, as sunlight streamed with an almost blinding brightness through the bedroom window, spilling warm rays across her face, waking her from her blissfully dreamless slumber. She turned her face into the crook of her arm and wiggled further into her blankets, not ready to face the day. Her face felt heavy and with a touch to her cheek she felt the sticky wetness of tears that lingered there. Still.

She had no idea how she'd gotten into bed or when she had, but she had no desire to leave it just yet. She had no desire to leave her bed ever again, if she was honest with herself. She must have slept for hours on end, but she felt so tired, her limbs like lead and a firm knot in her stomach. She didn't even bother calling into the company, not really caring if they missed her there or not.

Balling up her hands and shoving them under her pillow, she turned again, face pressed hard into the fabric and cotton batting. Maybe if she pressed harder, she'd smother. And then she'd be free of this tired, horrible feeling. But she didn't.

Reaching out a tentative hand for Santana, ready to drape her arm over her wife's waist as she slept, to cuddle her and clutch her close, she sighed. Santana would understand. She would tell Brittany it was okay to keep sleeping, to cry more if she wanted to, to scream out, to throw a hissy fit worse than when she found out _The Ex-List _had been cancelled. She needed that assurance right now, to know she could fall apart and that everything would be fine. Santana would take care of her.

But when her hand met air and fell with a soft thud against the mattress, no warm body on the other side of the bed, she remembered, her stomach sinking and a sudden panic taking hold of her. Then she quickly dismissed it as a horrible dream. Something not real. Santana was up early, just there in the kitchen, she was sure of it. She was fixing breakfast for her like she normally did. She was there.

In fact... Brittany stopped breathing for a moment, straining to hear the sounds of Santana moving around the kitchen, to hear the clang of pans or the whish and clinking of a whisk moving through pancake batter, metal making a pleasant ding against the glass mixing bowl. She waited for the soft hum of a song to reach her ears, a children's ditty or whatever overplayed pop tune was prevalant as Santana's ear candy. She waited. Squeezing her eyes shut tighter, she heard it. There. There it was, Santana clearly humming Mary Had a Little Lamb. Brittany exhaled suddenly, relief flooding through her. It was just a dream.

She must have fallen back asleep, because she was jolted awake again by the slam of a door from down the hall. She stiffened under the blankets, waiting for the padding of bare feet across the hardwood floor, to hear the soft murmuring of her wife cooing to their daughter. Instead there was more silence.

Brittany waited a few more moments. Maybe Santana was too busy in the kitchen to stop cooking and knew Brittany had stayed home today for the first time in months, and was depending on her to get their little girl ready for the day. With a small groan Brittany threw off her covers and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Her head was pounding, and the spit in her mouth felt thick and almost choked her. She wasn't sure her legs would work; they felt as solid as tree trunks, unwilling to bend.

But she got up, much to her own amazement. Her first steps were shaky but she made it, her muscles not moving as fluidly as normal. She entered the room, looking to Maya's bed for her daughter, yearning to hold the six year old and never let her go. But Maya wasn't there, and in her mind she knew she knew that already. She made as if to flee from the room, but she stopped suddenly, her free hand flying to clutch the frame for support, her legs suddenly weakened. Her breathing became more erratic and her chest felt too tight to allow for proper air flow.

Brittany was sure Santana should have come to her by now, should have made her way upstairs to greet her, to bring Maya into their room to say goodmorning. She fought the urge to call out for her, though her wife's name burned in her throat, the need to scream for her almost too much to bear. She swallowed the word, forcing it down, paying no mind to the ache in her lungs she knew was from holding it back.

After a few more moments she made it out of the room, and started her careful descent down the stairs. Santana would be there when she made it downstairs. Brittany would hug her, kiss her, tell her about the terrible nightmare she'd had. Santana would smile at her and hug her back, and tease her for being so silly.

Didn't she know she'd never leave her?

They'd laugh and kiss again, and then they'd go on with their day, laughing about the ridiculousness that often was found in dreams. But after each moment spent assuring herself that everything was okay, there was a sudden drop in her stomach, and she knew it wasn't. After each vehement statement that Santana would be there waiting, she had another that was louder and more firm that said she wouldn't.

Standing in the empty kitchen, Brittany started to openly cry, the memories of yesterday allowed to finally come rushing forth, the blonde unable to deny them any longer. With a sob she sank to the floor, cradling her head in her hands and weeping.

They were both gone, and it was all of her fault. She'd cheated on Santana... And couldn't even say why she did it. Opportunity? Thrill? Whatever reasons she'd had in the moment were beyond stupid and idiotic now. If she would have thought about it, would she have traded what she had with Santana for this? Would she have risked it? As she sat there on the floor and sobbed, she knew she already knew the answer to that. Not only did she lose her wife, but she also lost her daughter, and the realization that she had no idea when she'd see her little girl again caused her heart to ache horribly. She couldn't be mad at Santana for taking her. The fact was, she didn't have anyone else to blame but herself. How could she have done this to her family?

She was jolted from her horrifying reverie when she heard footsteps. She wiped her face hurriedly, looking up with expectant eyes at the doorway of the kitchen.

"Sant-" she stopped the word short, knowing it wasn't. But she still hoped.

Quinn rounded the corner and became visible to Brittany, and when she got to her friend she knelt down beside her and took her in her arms.

"Oh, Brittany." Quinn whispered softly. "How could you?"

Quinn wasn't angry, but the disappointment was clear from her tone and only caused Brittany to cry harder. She allowed herself to be cuddled for a bit longer; if she closed her eyes, Quinn almost felt like Santana. But it was wrong, the curves weren't right and her scent was too different for her to pretend for very long, and she broke from her friend's embrace.

"They left me," Brittany said morosely, gesturing with her hands to the empty kitchen. Quinn nodded her head, sitting beside Brittany on the floor. They sat there in silence for a little while, neither knowing what to say to the other.

Eventually Quinn broke the quiet.

"They went to Finn's... She called me and told me when they got there last night."

Brittany just nodded her head, feeling a little better that at least she knew where her wife and daughter ended up. It made sense that she would go to Finn, since he was the furthest away of their friends and someone Santana had remained close with since high school. She could have guess that she wouldn't go to Quinn, what with her in the same town and having a stronger connection to Brittany. She was thankful Santana had told Quinn, and she knew Santana probably did it knowing the information would get back to her.

"Do you think I should go there?" Brittany asked meekly, looking to her friend for advice. All she wanted was to tell Santana how much she was sorry, make her believe it. She wanted to hold her daughter in her arms and make sure she never remembered a time her mothers were apart.

"No, Britt. I don't think that's a good idea, as much as you want to," Quinn answered, trying to be as gentle as possible. She knew Brittany would be in a fragile state, if how Santana had acted on the phone were to be any indication of how the other woman would be doing.

"But..." Brittany started to think of a counter, but Quinn just shook her head.

"I think she needs some time, Brittany. You really, really hurt her."

"I didn't mean to," Brittany said quietly, her head in her hands. "I didn't want it to end like this."

"Then why did you do it? You knew it was wrong; why did you do it? Did you want to end it and thought this would be the best way?" Quinn questioned, her voice raising and an edge of anger in her tone. Brittany looked at her with her mouth wide open.

"No. I didn't want to destroy my marriage, my family, Quinn; that's the last thing I wanted," she insisted. Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned back against the kitchen counter, her head hitting the wood with a loud thud. "I don't know why I did what I did. I can't explain it. Not to you, not to her."

"You know that's not good enough, Brittany. If you want to get them back in your life, you're going to have to come up with something better than "I don't know". That's unacceptable," Quinn was trying to be nice, but Brittany could tell her emotions were caught up in her reactions, and she couldn't blame her. She was surprised she was even still talking to her, having been good friends with Santana as well.

"You must hate me. Santana must hate me," Brittany said with a little moan.

"_I_ don't hate you," Quinn assured, her voice softening. "I don't think Santana does either. You two have been together for as long as I can remember. She can't hate you."

Brittany was quiet, lost in thought for a few moments. She put herself in her wife's shoes for a split second, and tears welled in her eyes again.

"If she'd done this to me, I'd hate her. I'd run away." Quinn wrapped her arm around Brittany's shoulder and squeezed, letting out a deep sigh.

"You made a mistake, and you have to find a way to fix it," she said, squeezing Brittany's shoulder again.

"_If_ I can," came Brittany's small voice, and her eyes fixed on Quinn's with a hopeful expression.

Quinn nodded her head slowly, biting her lower lip. She hated to agree with Brittany, but she wasn't wrong this time.

"If you can."


	3. What Can I Say

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews and comments on the story so far! I'm glad you guys are digging it. Here we have another chapter from Brittany's POV. It doesn't explain everything, but sometimes we've got to be patient. Enjoy!**

It was late, later than she normally came home, their normally busy street still and silent. Paranoid, Brittany creeped in, unlocking the front door and quietly letting herself in. She knew Santana was going to be waiting up for her despite the lack of lights on on the house, since she hadn't been answering her wife's texts or calls for the past two hours. She knew that was a mistake; she should have given her a call just letting her know she wasn't dead somewhere. But she couldn't have trusted herself to speak and not let her voice give away what she'd done.

It didn't take her long to find her wife; Santana was sitting in the nursery they'd started working on, organizing the room for what was probably the millionth time ever since they began trying for a baby almost a year ago. Everything was a light buttery yellow, with little bees embellishing most of the decorations in the room, down to the curtains and the area rug Santana was sitting on.

Noticing Brittany in the doorway, Santana looked up, a smile where Brittany had expected a scowl.

"Hey, baby. You're home late. Long rehearsal?" Santana asked, turning back to her task of folding white onesies into a neat pile. Brittany was sure the onesies had been fine before, having seen Santana fold them and place them neatly in a dresser drawer before, but she knew Santana took comfort in nesting.

Santana wanted a baby almost more than Brittany at this point, though originally it had been Brittany's idea and Santana had been hesitant, finally agreeing to expanding their family after many long arduous talks, even deciding that she would be the one to carry their child. They'd tried with artificial insemination several times over, and each time they were left holding negative pregnancy tests, their spirits dashed. Now the time had come to try IVF... But it was expensive and the couple had to take a break from trying until they could up with the funding for what they hoped would be their last endeavor, enabling them to become mothers finally.

At this thought Brittany winced, and she was sure her face would give her away, but Santana didn't notice anything off about her wife, glancing up again, waiting for a reply. Brittany cleared her throat, unsure of what to say.

She wanted nothing more than to tell Santana... Doing so would kill her, but she knew it was the right thing to do. She knew Santana might understand, if she told her why... That what she did would help them get the money they needed to make their dream finally come true. She did it for them; Santana would forgive her if she knew that. She opened her mouth to say it, but faltered, her nerve failing her before she could even get out the first syllable.

"That bad, huh?" Santana remarked, again focusing on the infant clothing in front of her. "You work so hard, Brittany, and you have been the three years you've been there. I just wish they would see that. You're the best dancer in that company." Santana sounded bitter, and she had a right. It was true, Brittany was one of their best, if not the best they had... And she was sorely underutilized.

"I actually got the lead in our next production," Brittany mumbled, looking down at the floor. Santana snapped her attention back to her, her eyes wide from surprise.

"Are you serious? Britt, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you!" The brunette jumped up from her spot on the ground, bounding over to Brittany and taking her in her arms, hugging her tightly.

Brittany tensed, thinking this would be it. Santana would know just from how she was acting, from the smell of her... She hadn't bothered showering after, and she could smell the scent of men's cologne on herself. Surely Santana would notice, would shove Brittany away from her, would look at her accusingly and demand to know why. But she didn't, instead leaning up, placing a kiss on the blonde's lips. When Brittany didn't reciprocate, she pulled back, a large smile on her face.

"This is great, baby! Why aren't you excited?"

"I am, I am excited," Brittany lied through her teeth. How could she be excited about this? She didn't get the part because of her prowess as a dancer, her talent or drive. She got it because she gave the director what he wanted from all of his principle leads... She couldn't feel excited for this. She felt dirty, used, embarrassed, ashamed, yes. But not excited.

"Well, you should be. It's about time." Santana kissed her wife again, then bounded off down the hallway. "Come on, let's have a celebratory drink!"

Brittany followed, her entire body numb. Why wasn't Santana understanding? Couldn't she tell that something was wrong about this whole thing? Couldn't she sense that it just wasn't right? That Brittany wasn't alright, that she was dying inside? She had to do it. She had to say it, but she couldn't, her wife's happiness a beacon of light in this darkness that was slowly taking over her conciousness.

"You shouldn't do that," she found herself saying, and Santana stilled her hand reaching into the cupboard for the wine they kept there. She raised a single eyebrow at her wife, questioning.

"Why not?"

_Because I cheated on you_, Brittany wanted to say. _I slept with my director to get a job so we could finally schedule an appointment for IVF. It's not okay. We shouldn't be celebrating.  
_

"Because I got paid in advance..." were the words that left her mouth instead, her eyes pleading with Santana. _Please read between the lines, please see what I'm too weak to tell you...  
_

"How much?" Santana asked, her arm still in mid reach. She eyed the blonde, a twinkle in her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching. Brittany knew what she was really asking; she wanted to know if this meant what she thought it did. Brittany smiled weakly.

"Enough," Brittany said softly. She had to know now. She had to see it. In-vitro fertilization wasn't cheap, and for one check to cover it all was far fetched, unbelievable, even. Santana would understand now.

The brunette let her hand fall to her side, thudding against her thigh. She stood there for a few moments, wrapping her mind around what Brittany was saying.

"Oh Brittany..." Santana whispered, tears falling from her eyes.

Unexpectedly Brittany's heart soared, a wash of relief. This was it, Santana finally got it. She had connected the dots and she was upset, crying from the knowledge of what her wife had done. She would yell now, start screaming, maybe throw dishes. Lord knows she was ready, waiting for it with anticipation.

But, like earlier, Brittany was disappointed, Santana rushing towards her and leaping into her arms, sobbing tears. Tears of joy. Then she whispered into Brittany's ear, voice so full of emotion that it caused Brittany's chest to tighten, her wife's next words like a stab of a knife.

"I'm so proud of you." _  
_


	4. How Could the One I Gave My Heart To

**A/N This is one of the hardest stories I've ever had to write... It's a very emotionally complex ordeal, and I have issue with deciding how everyone would react, the feelings behind a lot of this, the confusion and hurt for everyone involved. I literally wrote this chapter over about four times, and I'm still not completely happy with it. Let me know what you all think. **

It still hurt. Even as she lay there in Finn's arms, their lips mashed together and tongues searching each other's mouthes, her kisses desperate and his hesitant but compliant, it still hurt. She thought maybe if she did what Brittany did, if she gave herself to another, that she might feel better. She might feel that they were even, she might understand what Brittany got out of it. But it wasn't helping; in fact it didn't do a damn thing but make her want to scream and cry out with frustration.

Instead of stopping like her brain was telling her to, she deepened their juncture, teeth gnashing at his, wrapping a leg around Finn's waist and reaching a hand between their tightly pressed bodies to fumble with the zipper of his jeans. Her motions were frenzied, her entire body shaking as she attempted to wrest Finn of his clothing. She had to, she had to know what it felt like for Brittany, savor the knowledge that she could be just as cold and cruel if she wanted to.

Gasping for air, Finn stopped her and pulled away, pushing her gently from him. She cried out at the loss of contact, but he did nothing to soothe her, keeping her at bay with one hand on her upper arm, grasping her hard so she couldn't move any closer.

"What in the hell are we doing?" Finn asked breathlessly with a shake of his head, turning over on his back and staring at her with a mixture of confusion and distress.

Santana ignored everything about his reaction, reaching for his face and trying to kiss him again, frantic. He jerked away and then took her by both wrists and sat up, urging her further away from him with a little push. He shook his head profusely, bringing a closed hand up to his forehead as he tried to regain control over what was happening.

"Santana, _no_. This is wrong!" he said sharply, and she could tell he was having a hard time containing his emotion. "I'm not sleeping with a married woman and I'm not letting you make this mistake either. I'm a fucking idiot for letting it get this far; you're upset, we were drinking..."

Her breath hitched in her throat as tears began to prick her eyes. Santana froze, looking at Finn as if she might just pass out right there. She didn't care. She didn't want to think about it, she just wanted to do it. Couldn't he tell she needed this, needed to hurt Brittany like she hurt her? Needed to feel something else other than what she was feeling at that moment? Anything was better than this constant pain she was in.

"Finn, please, please," she pleaded, her voice wavering waterly as she started to cry. "I need you..."

Again she went for him, practically throwing herself into his chest. Instead of shoving her away like he had been, he caught her and clutched her tightly to him, a hand moving to smooth down her hair.

"No, you don't. You don't need me at all," he said firmly, although his voice far from even, too overwrought. "This isn't about me; this is about Brittany."

At her name Santana started to weep, and Finn sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head. She still clung to his shoulder, balling up her hands in the fabric of his shirt and sobbing noiselessly. He let her go on as he patted her back and tried to comfort her.

She felt his chest heave as he exhaled deeply, recognizing the fact that he was upset with what they were doing easily because she felt the same way. Finn was a good guy; he would never have done this if she hadn't been so insistent, and everything had moved so fast that it would have been hard for him to stop her sooner... She'd known ever since she led him into the bedroom that he didn't want to, that they shouldn't be doing this, but in her desperation she had ignored what she knew was right. She forced herself because she thought it might make the incessant ache in her heart stop. Obviously it didn't, because now she felt even worse, adding shame and guilt to the multitude of emotions she was experiencing.

"It was me, I made you..." Santana said quickly, a hiccup breaking up her sentences. A rush of remorse overtook her, but she couldn't deny her skewed reasoning. "I just wanted her to hurt like she hurt me. But I love her too much to do it..." She sagged against him, unable to hold herself upright from the crippling pain raging in her heart. "How stupid is that? That I still love her so much I can't even cheat on a cheater?"

"You're not that person, Santana, I know you're not," Finn assured, finally calming down after wrapping his mind around the situation.

"How could she do this to me? If she loved me, how could she? I can't understand," Santana said softly, her voice breaking. "I love _her_. I built my life with her, my entire life. How could she do that to me? She didn't even just break my heart, she broke _me_, Finn. So much that I tried to put the moves on one of my best friends just out of spite and hurt. I can't understand."

"I don't think you should have to understand it. She shouldn't have done it," Finn said simply. "What is there to understand about that?"

"I think I need to leave," Santana said suddenly, pulling away from Finn and getting up, reaching for her shirt on the floor. The fact that Finn could be right, that it could be that simple pained her more than anything. She was embarrassed to still be standing in Finn's presence, knowing what could have happened here tonight. What was she thinking?

"Santana..." Finn scrambled up after her, grabbing her arm loosely. "Don't. It's late; you're in no condition to drive right now." Santana stopped, shirt hanging limply in her grasp as she hung her head, face flushed.

"I can't stay here, not after..."

"Listen, hetero-revenge was a bad idea, and we both know that. Let's just forget it happened, okay?" Finn suggested, his eyes pleading with his friend. "I already failed you once as a friend tonight, don't let me do it again. You and Maya are welcome here as long as you need. It's the least I can do."

She considered his offer for a few moments, her head swimming. She needed somewhere to go and she knew what happened wouldn't be happening again any time soon... She'd scared herself enough as it was, just knowing she was capable of considering something like that as a viable option for coping. How did she become this person? How did she drag Finn into this?

"Stop thinking about it and just say yes," Finn spoke up, breaking her train of thought. He was watching her carefully, as if she might explode at any second. She felt she might do just that.

"Okay," she replied after a length. She was still unsure, but she couldn't be trusted to make any choices tonight. She sat back down on the bed, and Finn patted her on the shoulder tenderly. He looked at her with apologetic eyes, his brows knit together in worry.

"I'm sorry, Santana. For everything."

"I'm sorry I'm such a fucking mess and you have to pick up the pieces," Santana retorted, wiping her face with her free hand to brush away the tracks of her tears.

"Hey, stop," Finn ordered in a quiet voice. "Shit happens, okay? I'm here for you, and Maya. Whatever you need."

She'd almost forgotten her sleeping daughter, bedded down in the guest bedroom down the hall. She was just as much a victim as Santana, if not more so. Her utter incompetence to give her daughter what she'd never had, a functioning family, made her want to lay down and die right then and there. If she couldn't do right by her own child, how could she expect to fix this giant catastrophy?

Finn was ready for her this time, drawing her into his arms and cooing at her, attempting to soothe her.

"You can talk to me, San. Just let it out," he urged, tightening his grip on her as her whole body shook. When she spoke it was brokenly and barely audible, but he made it out well enough.

"I feel like I'm failing Maya. She deserves a happy family, and I had to take her from the only home she ever knew, out of school, away from her friends and her mom..." Santana trailed off, her eyes brimming with tears yet again.

Maya was her pride and joy, her everything now. She knew her daughter was one of the reasons she never confronted Brittany about her infidelity until it just couldn't be avoided any longer; it would mean destroying their lives as they knew them.

A twenty eight year old could work through it (as hard as that was turning out to be) and could understand enough to know that this wasn't the end of everything, no matter how much it felt like it. But for a child it wasn't that easy, and Santana wanted to protect her for as long as she could. Even after she found out what Brittany was doing, she didn't let the interactions between them change, afraid Maya would notice a shift and question her, start doubting her family's stability.

Even now they were pretending everything was okay, Santana simply telling her daughter that they were going on vacation and Mama couldn't come because of her work. She couldn't keep it up for forever, she knew, but for now she was going to try to keep her little girl as untainted as possible.

Finn sighed, resting a hand on her shoulder. While he understood Santana's pain, he also thought it was silly for her to feel bad for doing the one thing she was best at: being a mother. Mothers wanted what was best for their children, or what they think is best. Santana was doing what she felt was right, and Finn really couldn't argue with her logic.

"You did what you had to do, Santana. No one is going to blame you for that. And Maya is too little to understand what is going on. To her, this is an adventure."

There was a long pause, Santana mulling over Finn's words. She cast her eyes downward, unable to look him in the eyes, the meer thought of what she was about to say making her want to cry again. She hadn't allowed herself to entertain this thought, let alone say it outloud.

"What if it's permanent?"

"Is it going to be?" Finn asked slowly, knowing how much even considering that option pained his friend. She shrugged her shoulders noncommitally, and he pressed further. "Do you want to work things out with Brittany?"

"I love her, Finn, I always will... But I don't know if it's worth it."


	5. The Way That I Love You

**A/N: Hopefully this doesn't confuse too many of you! I didn't get the transition quite right but I think you'll get the point. This will be our last flash back; the rest of the story will take place in present time with Brittany in California and Santana at Finn's. **

**And no, this is not becoming a Fantana story. ;) I know some people were worried. I just happen to think Finn is a good lesbro, LOL! **

**Drop me a line or two and let me know how this is going... I don't want to bore you all. **

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* * *

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Santana was living a lie. She knew it. Maybe Brittany didn't, but she should have. Or maybe she shouldn't, maybe they were destined to go on like this, each pretending that everything was fine and not acknowledging what was happening to them, what they'd become.

To anyone from the outside looking in, their marriage seemed happy, perfect even. Brittany brought home the bacon while Santana stayed home with their young daughter, who was as bright and cheerful as little girls come. Brittany brought roses home every Friday and Santana was more than vocal about how wonderful their budding family was doing when they went on double dates with the neighbors or ran across an old friend at the grocery store. They were often seen canoodling in the hot tub housed in their back yard or busy playing with their child at the park not two blocks from their home. They were always smiling, always laughing, always seemed to be enjoying each other like two people in love should.

If only they knew that just under the surface of this facade Santana was crumbling, slowly deteriorating piece by piece.

When she finally figured out what Brittany was doing behind her back, no, in front of her face, she had been angry. But Brittany wasn't the subject of her rage, she herself was. How could she have not seen this coming, not seen it happening? Was she seriously that out of sync with her wife that this could be allowed to happen and she didn't even know about it?

She couldn't pinpoint when it started, her memory wasn't that good and she was sure Brittany had covered it up better then than she was now. In their fourth year of marriage, Brittany almost didn't bother at all, coming home mussed and distracted, was less inclined to be touchy, and flinched at the sight of Santana every time she saw her.

At first Santana thought it was stress related to work. Brittany was a principle dancer ever since she landed her first gig, and her work load was steady and often staggering. Rehearsals, classes, shows, it all washed together in Santana's mind; she was always busy. Then one night when she had decided maybe Brittany needed a special kind of physical relief, she'd made the horrible discovery. Her fingers inside her wife, she felt it. Someone else had been there, had made their home in a place that was supposed to be reserved specifically for her. Jerking her hand away out of repulsion, she'd feigned a headache as her mind raced, trying to rationalize what was happening. Eventually she decided that her mind was playing tricks on her, that she imagined it... Who wanted to believe that the person they loved would do something like that to them? But upon further exploration, the truth was too clear to be denied.

The decision to not confront Brittany did not come about easily. Santana being Santana, she'd wanted to; she'd wanted to scream and yell and demand that Brittany stop her antics, threaten to leave, everything to get her to see what she was doing was hurting her and their family.

But she didn't react then, and why she didn't say anything right away was clear in her mind. She simply couldn't. Up until that exact moment, they _had_ been happy. Their neighbors wouldn't have been wrong in their assumptions... And despite knowing now what had been going on (and now looking back, had been for some time) she still loved her wife. She remembered back in high school, they would stray from each other on occassion... But they always returned to one another in the end. Brittany was acting out, for whatever reason, but she would be back. She'd stop when she realized how good she had it at home. So she didn't say anything, because she knew they loved each other. If there was one thing that Brittany taught her in all their years together, it was that love conquered all.

As much as she loved Brittany, she loved her daughter more. The happy, sparkly two year old was her crowning glory, the one thing she could proudly declare she'd done right, especially now that she knew her marriage wasn't what it had been played up to be. But Maya was. Maya was everything Santana had ever dreamed her being... Ever since she and Brittany had decided to have a child, she'd hoped, she'd _ached _for something as perfect as what Maya was proving to be. To her mother, she was the moon, the sun, the ocean... Everything beautiful and everything needed to make her world go around. No one could take that away from her, not even Brittany.

But she was trying to. By doing what she did, she was trying to destroy what Santana had worked so hard to build: a happy family. Santana's childhood, while filled with plenty of material things, was severely lacking what she needed most, and what she was absolutely bound and determined to give her own daughter. She didn't want Maya to think once that her parents weren't there for her, that they didn't love her, that she couldn't come to them with her problems, her fears, her hopes, her dreams. No, Santana was going to be there for her child.

Maya may have been her's biologically, but she was Brittany's by love and devotion. She knew Brittany felt the same feelings towards their daughter as she did, without a doubt in her mind. There was no way she'd ever say anything different. Brittany knew what a loving and caring home was like, and was just as dedicated to giving this to their little girl. Santana knew that. And how could they give that to her if they were fighting, they were cheating, they were god forbid divorcing? Once this was out in the open, everything would change. Their entire lives would be turned upside down; there were no two ways about that. And Santana couldn't bear it.

So for Maya. For Maya she would live with this, until Brittany came around. She could live with it. She could pretend she didn't know. She could go on. She had to.

Once this was decided, she did as much as she could to push it out of her mind. For four years, she went on living life as if nothing was wrong. She smiled and laughed just as often, delighted in her daughter, and carried on day to day life as she had been before. She didn't let anything change.

The only downside of that was that everything changed anyway. She found herself basically living _around_ her wife, scared to look too closely and find more hints that she was straying. But even while she blatantly ignored the signs, they were still there, in her face, mocking her. And it hurt. More and more it hurt, each transgression shoving the knife of betrayal further into her heart.

Sometimes it would be months between instances, and each time there was a lull, she felt a surge of confidence, just knowing that this was it, that they'd gotten past this and everything could finally return to normal. And when she'd convinced herself of this and she'd settled into the thought that they were okay, it would happen again.

Each time, no matter how many times, she was crushed, her heart breaking even more than it already had. These periods of ups and downs wore her down hard, to the point where towards the end of those four years, she cried herself to sleep every night. She was sure to save face in front of Brittany, each morning waking up and starting their routine again. Wake up, morning cuddle, get Maya ready, fix breakfast, say goodbye to Brittany, take care of Maya and the house, make dinner, let dinner get cold from waiting for Brittany, give up on her being home that night, eat, put Maya to bed, cry, sleep, wake when Brittany came home, pretend to care, sleep. Rinse and repeat, almost day in and day out for the most part.

Eventually any intimacy between them was started by Brittany, and Santana forced herself to act as if her wife touching her didn't want to make her cringe, as soon as the deed was over rushing into the shower to wash herself from the feelings of being used, of being dirty. It never worked.

Their growing daughter turned out to be her saving grace... On days Santana was sure she couldn't take any more, that she would finally break under the pressure of her secret, Maya was there, smiling at her and amazing her with the little things she would do. Through all of this, she was flourishing, a bright and happy little girl despite her own inner turmoil, bringing light to the parts of Santana's soul that would surely have died otherwise. And then she would remember why she was doing all of this in the first place. Not for her. Not for Brittany. For Maya.

* * *

This day would be different. She had made plans with Quinn to meet up for lunch while Maya was in school, the blonde having made time to fit her into her own hectic schedule, juggling her four year old son and a job teaching at a local dance studio. Truer to the norm though, something came up just as Santana was parking at the Thai restaurant across town and Quinn couldn't make it.

Returning home a little disappointed but deciding not to let it ruin her day, she pulled up to the front of the garage. Brittany's car was there, which was odd, because it was the middle of the day and she hadn't said anything about coming home early. She also knew Santana would be gone... She and Quinn had this lunch date planned for a little over a week and Brittany knew how much she had been looking forward to it.

Confused, she parked and got out of the car, walking up to the front door. It was locked, which, again was odd considering Brittany was home. She fished her keys back out of her purse and unlocked it, opening the door and going inside. She dropped her purse by the front door and called in loudly.

"Baby, Quinn canceled on me. Go figure..." No response, so she tried again, the fact that Brittany's car would be here and Brittany not just not computing. "Britts? Are you here? I didn't know you'd be home this early; you should have told me and I'd have had something waiting for you for lunch."

She didn't get an answer, but a muffled noise coming from down the hall made her jump. She realized it was coming from the bedroom and made her way towards it, her stomach suddenly fluttering and her breath hitching in her throat.

"Brittany?" Another muffled noise, this time an easily discernable giggle. Brittany giggling. She pushed the door open with the heel of her hand, finding it not even latched closed all the way.

The sight that met her eyes would be one that she wouldn't soon forget: her wife's lithe body tangled up in the sheets of their queen sized bed with that of a burly looking man. Naked. Unable to register what was happening Santana's jaw dropped, her ability to think completely gone. Brittany noticed her immediately, shoving her counterpart off of her and grabbing uselessly for something to cover herself.

"Santana! You were supposed to be gone!"

"So you did _this_?" Santana found herself shrieking, her speech returning and shock dissipating, giving way to anger and rage.

It wasn't enough that she was cheating but she had to bring it home and do it in their bed? The bed they slept in every night while Santana avoided brushing against Brittany in the dark because she was absolutely disgusted by her. The bed Santana cried herself to sleep in because of what Brittany was doing to her.

It was too much, and Santana saw red, letting out an anguished cry. She turned to the man in her bed and pointed towards the door, her hand and voice shaking.

"You need to leave!"

The man waffled for a few seconds but scrambled to find his clothing, and Santana thought for a second she recognized him from the dance company Brittany worked for. Suddenly the memory of the last show came to mind, and she placed him as the lighting tech who had shown her around the set and let her mess with one of the three spotlights they were using for that particular production.

"_Get the fuck out of my house_!" she screamed, finding it an insult to injury that not only was Brittany cheating but the guy she was cheating with knew she was married and still did it.

"I can explain," Brittany said hurriedly, not even bothering looking after the man who was fleeing their bedroom with no shoes on. Her eyes were fixed on Santana, who had started rummaging through the closet, throwing things into a suitcase she'd pulled from inside of it and had laying open on the floor.

"I don't give a shit, Brittany! Do you think I care what you have to say?" Santana tossed over her shoulder, not wanting to waste any more time pretending. She'd done this for years, and this was it. She'd had it. Why should she have to go on acting like everything was fine when Brittany was trying so damn hard to make sure she knew what was going on? Why should she have to take this?

"Please, I didn't mean to hurt you! Just listen to me!" Brittany cried, shoving her own clothes on in a frenzy and coming to her wife's side, just in time for Santana to zip her suitcase shut and pick it up. Brittany stilled her, her hands on each of Santana's shoulders, holding her back from leaving. She searched Santana's face, the fear and desperation easily readable.

Santana stared back, the look in Brittany's eyes shaking her to her core. She almost put the bag down. But she didn't. She knocked Brittany's hands off of her and shook her head, tears falling from her eyes, a mixture of anger and hurt in her countenance.

"You didn't mean to hurt me," Santana conceded brokenly, her vision blurring as she cried.

Brittany's own eyes teared up, and she nodded her head profusely, agreeing. Santana scoffed sadly, shrugging her shoulders and gesturing to the suitcase she was still gripping tightly by the handle. She shook her head as she returned her gaze to Brittany's face, her vouce breaking as she choked out her next words.

"But look at what you've done to me now."


	6. I Told You So

**A/N I am SO not trying to be this slow at updating. Real Glee starts back up and it's like time moves 30x faster... **

Maya was happily engaged in a lively game of Uno with Finn at the kitchen table, Santana laughing as her daughter proudly proclaimed herself the winner with four cards still in her hands. She was finishing up a pan of scrambled eggs to compliment the sausage already browned and pancakes sitting in wait on a plate by the stove. She figured if Finn was letting them stay, she could at least take over the cooking duties. That, and she was pretty tired of eating the bachelor's normal fair of Poptarts, pizza, and Winchel's donuts. She watched Finn and Maya carry on from the stove, careful to not get too distracted from her cooking.

"You can't win, you have like four cards, not even an Uno yet!" Finn argued, mock upset that he was "losing". He looked over the top of the six year old's head, winking at Santana, and she suppressed a laugh.

"Look, Uncle Finn, if you can't stand the heat..." Maya said, cocking her head to the side as she passed her cards over to Finn, her eyes twinkling knowing she would win no matter what happened, because her Uncle Finn was whipped, to say the least.

"Get out of the kitchen," Finn finished with a roll of his eyes, shuffling the deck again. He flicked his gaze back to Santana, nodding towards Maya. "I had no idea you were raising such a ruthless child."

"You know kindergarten these days is pretty cut throat," Santana joked, grinning at her mini-me. The pair shared a knowing smile, Maya crinkling her nose at her mother and laughing. "Anyway, breakfast is officially done. Why don't you card sharks set the table?"

"Rematch after breakfast?" Finn asked, setting the cards aside on the kitchen island and standing, picking up Maya from her chair and tossing her lightly in the air, eliciting a shrill giggle from the small girl before setting her back down.

"It's Monday, Finn. I know your lucrative job as a sports writer means you don't really have to keep track of what day of the week it is, but Maya has school," Santana said, getting down a stack of plates and handing them to Finn. Finn took them from her and groaned.

"Oh that's right. Well, when you get back then."

"I'll see if I can fit you in," Maya said cheekily, flipping her hair like Santana often did. Finn laughed, shaking his head as he handed the plates to the six year old, Maya happily placing them before chairs at the table.

Santana watched as they finished setting the table, enjoying listening to the pair goof around and goad each other further, playfully smack-talking and teasing. They'd been at Finn's for almost two weeks, and Maya seemed to be doing well.

She and Finn were thicker than thieves, as Santana knew they would be. She'd been enrolled in a local elementary, and her teacher was reported that she was acclimating rather quickly, having made a few friends and being active in their classroom activities. Santana admitted to having been worried; she'd heard so many horror stories of kids becoming introspective and withdrawn due to a big change like this... But Maya seemed unbothered by it. Naturally then Santana worried about _that_, too... Had Brittany really been gone so much that their own daughter seemed non-plussed by the fact she hadn't seen her in weeks?

Of course, that didn't mean that Maya didn't ask after her mother, and over breakfast she broached the subject, pushing her eggs around her plate and looking up at Santana with curious eyes.

"Mommy, when is Mama coming here? It's been like, _forever_," Maya said, watching her mother's face very closely. Santana swallowed her bite, carefully choosing her words.

"I told you, sweetheart; she's working. She'll be here when she can. For now why don't you just enjoy our vacation with Uncle Finn, alright baby?"

"Do people normally get a new school on vacation?" Maya mused, returning to her food before looking at Finn and then back at Santana. "I asked Brooke at school, and she went to Hawaii for vacation, and she said she didn't get a new school."

"Well this is a long vacation, and you don't want to fall behind right? When we go back home, it'll be like we never left." Santana almost flinched at the way she said it, the words she used. Did she really think that? That they could go back and it'd be as if none of this had happened? She knew that's what she wanted. She wanted that for everyone. But was it likely? No.

"I guess," Maya said slowly, her gaze dropping down to her plate. Santana noticed automatically, the darkening of her daughter's eyes squeezing her heart. Finn picked up on her panic and coughed, turning to Maya and gesturing at her with his fork.

"Hey, My, what do you say instead of that Uno game we go get some ice cream? Maybe go out for dinner after."

Santana was afraid her sigh of relief was audible, more than thankful for the change in topic. She shot Finn an appreciative look, and he nodded just enough to acknowledge it, smiling at Maya.

"Ice cream before dinner?" Maya asked with a giggle, looking at him as if he was trying to pull the wool over her head. She then looked at her mother and both of her eyebrows rose. "Can that happen?"

"That's what vacation is for, isn't it?" Finn continued conspiritorially, leaning in and wiggling his eyebrows at the six year old.

"Awesome!" Maya shrieked, her face lighting up.

Happy to be past that little blip, Santana was able to enjoy the rest of breakfast, the conversation turning to a light banter about where they would go for dinner and Maya insisting that Finn promise her there would definitely be ice cream first. Eventually they got finished up and Santana got her daughter off to school, watching her from the doorway as she stood at the bus stop. When the giant yellow school bus pulled up and opened it's doors, Maya turned and waved at her mother, and with that, she was off. Santana waited until the bus was out of sight before returning inside to find Finn cleaning up.

"Here, let me," Santana told him, coming up to take the dishes from him.

"San, I've got it. You cooked, I can do dishes." He lifted the dishes up higher out of her grasp and then lofted them into the sink. She chuckled and reached for a glass.

"You're letting me and my burgeoning wild child stay here. I can do dishes."

"You can argue all you want, Santana, but it's not going to do anything," Finn countered, taking the glass from her and playfully bumping her with his elbow. She rolled her eyes and sighed, defeated.

"Fine. But I'm going to get a start on laundry, okay? Throw your shit down the basement stairs when you're done with those dishes."

"Whaaatever."

She had just started a load of towels when she heard the door bell ring. Picking up the now empty laundry basket, she mounted the stairs two at a time, attempting to get to the door before Finn. But voices wafted down the hallway towards her as she made it to the top, and she slowed her pace, the sharpness of Finn's voice and the arguing tone of a woman causing her to pause and listen.

"You need to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere, Finn. Let me talk to my wife!"

"She doesn't want to talk to you. I suggest you take what pride you have left and go."

"Who the fuck are you, talking to me like that? Get Santana."

"I don't think that's a good..."

"Brittany?" Santana called, the familiar voice of her wife causing her stomach to turn. She hadn't even tried to contact her until now. What was she doing here?

"Santana?"

Santana made it to the door only to find Finn blocking it, standing in the doorway with his hand resting on the frame. She gently pulled his arm, and grudgingly he moved out of the way.

"Santana!" Brittany seemed relieved to see her, her eyes automatically tearing up. Santana noted her wife's appearance... She looked thinner, was wearing no make-up, and her clothes were rumpled. Apparently she wasn't doing as well as Santana had thought she would be, considering she was the one who had done wrong. Her face was tense and slightly frightened. "Can I talk to you?"

"What could you possibly have to say?" Finn asked coldly, and Santana could feel him pressing closer from behind. She reached a hand to rest on his chest, stilling him.

"What do you need?" Santana's voice was soft but in control, and it automatically set Brittany further on edge.

"I want to see Maya..."

"She's at school," Santana said without hesitation. At this news Brittany's eyesbrows knitted together, a confused frown on her face. Confusion quickly melted into disbelief.

"You put her in a new school?"

"For the time being, yes. She can't fall behind in school." Santana was being calm, and she oddly enough felt calm. She hadn't been able to plan out what their first interaction since the day she left would be like, but she'd been pretty sure it would be just more yelling. This surprised herself, though Brittany and even Finn were moreso, having expected the same and worse from this meeting.

"When she gets out?" Brittany pressed, her strained expression returning. Santana knew that Brittany missed her daughter horribly, she didn't even have to hear Brittany's near beg to know that. But Brittany hadn't done anything to earn her rights to see Maya just yet.

"I don't think so Brittany. I'm not ready."

Brittany lost it then, unable to stand the fact that Santana was withholding seeing their child.

"_You _don't have to be ready, Santana. She is my daughter just as much as yours," Brittany seethed, uncommon but entirely warranted at the moment, even Santana could admit that. "You can't use her as an emotional pawn."

"I'm not using her as anything," Santana said forcefully, a scowl now on her face. Her calm state was gone, and she could slowly feel anger creeping up from her chest.

"It's been two weeks, Santana. I need to see my little girl. You know it's not fair. You know that," Brittany pleaded, and Santana snorted.

"Who are you to talk about fair? Like you have any idea what that means after you cheated on me."

"Can we not talk about that? Can we talk about our daughter?" Brittany sounded exasperated, which only set Santana more on edge. The blonde swallowed, closing her eyes momentarily before reopening them. "This has nothing to do with what I did."

"Are you kidding me?" Santana asked incredulously. She took a step closer to her wife, her hand raised and finger pointed accusingly at her. "It has _everything_ to do with what you did. I can't trust you, Brittany, and I don't want you to hurt our daughter. I've been able to keep her untainted but once she sees you, she's going to know something is wrong. We need to take the steps to make this right between us before I allow you to see her."

"Santana..."

"You know what, no," Santana snapped, holding her hand out. "If you want to make this worse for yourself, then go ahead. Maya gets home at three thirty. You can decide for yourself."

Brittany thought about this for a few seconds, and her face screwed up into a grimace before a few tears fell from her eyes. She quickly wiped them away, letting out a huge sigh. It didn't take her long to realize maybe Santana was right. Did she really deserve to see Maya after what she did to their family?

"Fine." The word was soft, but clearly heard by Santana, who nodded. Not that she was satisfied, none of these options were the best right now. They all sucked, and she knew that. But she could only do what she thought was right, and this was what was right for their daughter right now.

"Thank you," Santana said quietly, no hint of smugness in her tone.

"I have been trying," Brittany said after a few awkward moments. "I started going to therapy twice a week."

"What's that going to do?" Santana felt like snapping at her, asking what the hell did she think a therapist would be able to fix when Brittany was the one who made these choices for herself.

"Basically nothing if you don't go with me," Brittany admitted sheepishly. She had sought out a therapist on Quinn's recommendation, but he had told her there wasn't much that could be done if they both weren't committed to trying to save their marriage. That and the fact that they hadn't been able to talk about what happened was weighing heavily on Brittany's mind to the point she no longer slept and barely made it into work most days.

"I want us to work out, Santana. I miss you. I can't stand the thought of losing you." Brittany was staring at Santana now, searching her face for understanding. The brunette was paused, her arms crossing and uncrossing as she processed.

Funny that Brittany should think of that now, how _awful_ it would be for their relationship to disintegrate. But was it really too late? It was hard to think there on the spot, Brittany's pained eyes searching her own and Finn behind her, waves of resentment and anger rolling off of him palpably.

"I know," was all she offered, a small sympathetic gesture in that she didn't slam Brittany's hopes of reconciliation down automatically.

Truthfully the thought of losing Brittany altogether crushed her, but it was so hard to see how they could get through this when every time she looked at Brittany all she could see was the image of her with another person. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to get past the infidelity, the lying, the sneaking. She wasn't sure she wanted to. But looking at Brittany, the way she was standing there, desperate, regretful... She looked sorry. And they had been _so _happy. That much was as true as the fact that now they were miserable. They had a life together, a child, and they used to have a future together, too. Santana wondered if they could get that back, even if they tried.

"So I guess... If you want to go to sessions with me..." Brittany said slowly, her real question obvious to Santana, having known Brittany for years. Santana wasn't ready to give her an answer quite yet.

"I'll let you know."

Brittany looked crestfallen but automatically flipped a switch, giving her wife a sad smile.

"Okay. Whenever you're ready," she conceded, though it pained her horribly to do so. She wanted nothing more than for Santana to just say yes so they could begin the healing process. But she also knew Santana, and knew that she needed her time to process and think before acting. She would have to live with that, because there was nothing else she could do about it.

Santana was happy she was able to take that for an answer, because she honestly couldn't give either a yes or no, not like this. And Brittany would have to be content with waiting for her decision until she was able to really hash everything out.

"Bye, Britt."

"Bye, Santana..." Brittany was hurt by her shortness, but knew when she was being dismissed. Not knowing what else to do, she gave a small smile before turning and walking down the sidewalk back to her car. "I love you."

Santana's eyes brimmed with tears and she wanted so badly to be able to say those three words back, but she swallowed them even though they got stuck in her throat. Instead she muffled a small sob and turned quickly back towards the door to go back inside. Finn moved out of her way, allowing her to streak past and hurry back inside before she completely lost it.

After watching the brunette turn the corner into the kitchen, he looked back out the front door to where Brittany was climbing behind her driver's seat. He carefully shut the door behind him and he broke out into a jog, flailing one of his hands to get the blonde's attention.

"What do you want?" she asked him in a tired voice, her forehead resting against the steering wheel. He was lucky she even rolled down the window so he could speak.

"Look. I'm just going to tell you. I think you're a shitty person for what you did. I don't think you should be forgiven."

Brittany groaned, and she turned her face to look at him with disdain. She was about to open her mouth to say something when he spoke again.

"But whatever my opinions are on all this, they don't matter. Because Santana is the one you hurt here, not me. And she misses you, Brittany," Finn said, his voice suddenly soft. He bent down and put his hands on the door frame, resting them there as he looked meaningfully at the blonde.

Brittany stared at him disbelievingly, unable to wrap her mind around why he was talking to her at all especially with how he acted at the door earlier and his actual words all at once. Santana sure as hell didn't seem to miss her.

"I know she puts up a good front, doesn't she?" he said with a little chuckle. "She doesn't say it and she probably wouldn't admit it if you asked, but I know she does. I hear her crying out your name in her sleep, and I see her staring off into space listlessly with the most heartwrenching expression you've ever seen. And as much as I can't stand what you did, I won't be able to take watching her if this really is the end for you two. She loves you."

"I..." Brittany faltered, having no idea what to say.

"Just... fix it. Whatever it takes," Finn finished, fingers flexing as he looked off in the distance.

"I will," Brittany said resolutely. For a second she wondered what Finn's angle was, but realized he probably didn't have any. He didn't have much to gain from the two reconciling besides the fact that he would have his bachelor pad back.

"You better." Finn stood then, slapping the car's roof before he backed away. "I'll see you around."

"See you, Finn."

Brittany started the car and put it in gear, and Finn turned and went back towards the house. Before she pulled away, she called out to him.

"Hey Finn?"

He turned around, hands in his pocket, waiting for her to speak.

"Take care of my girls."


	7. Almost Doesn't Count

It wasn't a week later that Quinn showed up at Finn's unannounced, though no one was actually bothered by this, her smiling and happy presence more than welcome in the sullen days following Brittany's visit. Santana had sunken into a deeper funk, bordering on depression ever since her wife had been by. At the sight of her friend though, she immediately perked up, elated to see Quinn.

The blonde was just as excited, quickly sweeping Santana and Maya into tight hugs, and then sharing a warm and friendly hello with Finn, who she hadn't seen for almost a year. When all the pleasantries were over with, Finn ushered them all into the living room, disappearing into the kitchen with Maya to fetch drinks for everyone. This gave Quinn and Santana a few moments alone, and Quinn took advantage of it automatically, turning towards Santana and clearing her throat.

"I suppose you know why I'm here," Quinn said lightly, and Santana's smile faltered.

"I thought you wanted to see me and Maya," Santana said, her voice unsure now after that ominous lead in.

"Of course I do. I miss you guys." Quinn smiled at her sadly, and Santana's eyebrows furrowed. She was waiting for Quinn to say what she obviously had to say. "But I came to talk to you about Brittany."

Automatically Santana tensed. Of course. Why hadn't that even crossed her mind? It made perfect sense for Brittany's closest friend to come here and try to plead her case. She wondered how much Quinn really knew, how much Brittany had told her... It didn't seem like Quinn to know all of that and still be bothered with their relationship.

"How is she?" Santana asked, her voice strained. She started to toy with a loose string on the arm of the couch, avoiding her friend's gaze. If Quinn didn't know, she didn't want to be the one to tell her all of the gory details.

"Honestly? Not well. But things are starting to look up."

At this Santana's head jerked up, eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Quinn.

"And that means what exactly?"

"She quit her job at the company," Quinn said easily, and the look in her eyes let Santana know that the blonde knew the significance of that statement. "She cut them all out of her life, Santana."

"That's supposed to make everything better?" Santana asked tersely. She couldn't believe Quinn. She knew, _she knew_, and she was still here trying to make Brittany look good.

"No, it doesn't," Quinn admitted, her voice soft but firm. "But it's a start, isn't it? She quit, and she opened her own studio. She asked me to come and teach with her. I accepted."

"Okay," Santana said, unwilling to admit that that was indeed huge. Brittany had been with that company for years, and it paid really, really well. Not only that, but the prestige that went along with this particular dance company was very well known, and sought after. Noone who was in would ever dare to quit once they were in. Santana knew exactly how much of a big deal this was for her wife to have done. And Brittany had always talked about one day opening her own studio, once her own career had dwindled down... The fact that she was doing it now was shocking, to say the least.

"She's trying, Santana. And I know you know that. She told me she came here."

"She did," Santana admitted, nodding her head. "She said she was going to therapy."

"By herself," Quinn clarified sharply. "She needs you to go with her, Santana, if you're ever going to work through this."

"I'm not sure I want that."

Quinn shifted on the couch, the slight wrinkle of her brow indicating she was thinking carefully. The blonde nodded her head slowly after a few moments.

"That's fair. After what she put you through, that's fair, and I wouldn't blame you for it," Quinn started to say, though Santana knew she wasn't done. "But Brittany does. Brittany does want to work things out, and she's trying everything she knows how to do that on her own. But it doesn't work like that, does it?"

Santana watched her friend's face attentively, reading between the lines. Not that Quinn was leaving much room between them, pretty much telling Santana exactly how it was.

"I suppose."

"She needs you. I know, I know you're the last person to want to help her, and I get that, I do, but... She's your wife."

"My wife that cheated on me, or are we going to ignore that part? I'm not the bad guy here," Santana said, feeling her face flush. No way was anyone going to turn this around on her. Brittany was wrong, she deserved to feel this way, not her.

"No, you're not. And you're right, but no one is trying to ignore it. She's trying to fix it," Quinn said gently.

"Did she tell you to come here?" Santana asked, her eyes flashing darkly.

"She didn't, no. She has no idea I'm here," the blonde explained, and Santana knew she was telling the truth. "I hate what she did, Santana, but I also know... I guess I don't, actually, I don't know anything," Quinn said, throwing a hand up and letting it drop onto her lap unceremoniously. "I don't know anything but the fact that you two were perfect for each other, that you love each other, and that the Santana I know wouldn't just walk away from her marriage."

"You don't know this Santana, the one that had to hide something like that for years, keep it from everybody, so they wouldn't have to know what was going on," Santana said angrily. "You have no idea what that does to a person. So you're right; you don't know anything."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each staring at the other. After awhile, Quinn spoke again.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, reaching for Santana's hands and taking them in her own. "I am, I really am. Maybe I was wrong to come here."

"No, you weren't," Santana countered, her shoulders sagging as she let out a deep breath. "I needed to know..."

"One session?" Quinn said timidly, biting her lip as she searched her friend's face. "I know it hurts, but maybe the counseling will help you, too..."

"Has it helped Brittany?" Santana asked, her eyes filling with tears. Could it be that easy? Could just talking to a shrink with her wife make these horrible feelings go away? Make her feel loved, safe, and secure again? Did it work like that?

"Nothing but you will help Brittany," Quinn admitted sadly. "And maybe..." Quinn paused, tears welling in her own eyes. "Nothing can help you but her."

* * *

After Finn and Maya had gone to bed and Quinn had gone home, Santana lay in the guest bedroom wide awake, her head pounding. The rest of Quinn's visit had gone smoothly, the two of them regaining composure as soon as Maya and Finn had reentered the room.

Later, she'd told Finn what Quinn had said, and he had simply nodded his head thoughtfully. She didn't press for advice, already knowing what she had to do. With a sigh, she decided she might as well do it now, keep herself from waiting and this feeling of anticipation from gnawing at her for much longer.

Rolling over onto her side and reaching for her phone on the nightstand, Santana dialed a familiar number.

"_Hello_?" Brittany's groggy voice answered. Santana glanced at the clock; it was after midnight.

"Brittany... It's Santana. I'm sorry it's so late," Santana said, speaking quietly. She heard some shuffling on Brittany's end, and then her voice again.

"_No, it's fine, it's totally fine_," she reassured quickly. "_I'm happy to hear your voice. I miss you_."

Santana remained silent, her breath hitching in her throat.

"I miss you, too." She let the words slip out, even if she wasn't sure Brittany deserved to hear them. "I heard that you quit..."

"_I did_," Brittany affirmed, her voice becoming more clear as she wakened further. "_I couldn't be around them, knowing... With what happened_..."

"I know," Santana said softly, letting Brittany off the hook from saying what they both already knew. There was no need for the words to be spoken outloud, not now. "I just wanted to tell you... I want you to come see Maya."

"_Seriously_?" Brittany's voice was excited but guarded, as if Santana might be playing a joke on her. "_When_?"

"This weekend?" Santana offered, closing her eyes tightly and trying to keep her voice from giving her weakness away. She'd felt a sudden surge of sadness, a longing for Brittany. These were the times that confused her, the times she was so sure she'd forgive Brittany if only she just promised to never do it again. Then of course, she would just get mad again, upset at herself, at Brittany, as if it'd just happened all over again.

"_That sounds great, Santana. I miss her so much_," Brittany said, and Santana could tell she was crying.

"I'm sorry," Santana said, her voice barely audible. "This is... It's not what I want."

"_Us apart_?"

"You away from Maya," Santana corrected, though she knew what Brittany said to be true as well. She just wasn't going to admit it, not when she knew in five minutes she'd just hate Brittany again, once she remembered. "You'll be here Saturday?"

"_Yes_," Brittany responded emphatically. "_Any time_."

There were a few long silent moments, Santana unsure of what to say. Brittany spoke again instead.

"_Have you thought about_..."

"I have," Santana replied, trying to keep her voice light.

"_And_?"

"I think that's something we'll talk about when you're here this weekend, Brittany," Santana said evenly, not wanting to give Brittany an impression of what she was going to say either way. She needed room to change her mind if suddenly in the morning this was a horrible idea.

"_This weekend_," Brittany agreed, though her voice was heavy. "_I'll see you then_."

"Yes."

"_Santana_?"

"Yeah, Britt?"

"_I love you_."

The phoneline went dead before Santana had a chance to respond, Brittany having hung up. Tossing her phone back on the nightstand, Santana sighed, curling into a ball on the bed. Closing her eyes, a few tears rolled down her cheeks, soaking into the sheets below her.

"I love you, too."


	8. To Make You Feel My Love

**_A/N: Sorry for the wait, but as you're probably all aware, there is no shortage of Brittana angst. I just couldn't deal. However I pounded this out for you guys, and I hope you like it. Regular updates shall be resuming. :) _**

* * *

"Mama! Mama! You're here!"

Brittany dropped to her knees in the grass, arms open wide as her daughter rushed into them, shrieking. She didn't care that Finn and Santana were watching, the other two forgotten as she swept her daughter into her embrace, unable to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. A month might as well have been a year when it came to being away from her little girl.

"Oh baby, I've missed you so much," Brittany said quietly, kissing her daughter's cheeks repeatedly. Maya giggled, throwing her arms around her mother's neck and clinging to her.

"I've missed you too!"

Santana watched her wife and daughter's reunion, her own tears welling in her eyes. It was only then that she realized how selfish she'd been to keep them apart for so long. She wasn't helping Maya, she was only serving her own means with that decision. Finn reached for her hand and held it supportively, giving it a slight squeeze. She returned it weakly, still watching the pair before her.

"Mommy, Mama's here!" Maya said brightly, grinning at Santana and pointing enthusiastically to Brittany. "Come say hi!"

Santana let go of Finn's hand hesitantly, the few steps towards her wife feeling like a mile, her feet heavy and leaden. She smiled, and though it was strained, she did it anyway, for Maya's benefit. Brittany stood up, returning her smile just about as shakily.

"Hey," Brittany said, opening her arms slightly, inviting Santana into her arms. How she'd yearned for this for the past month, just to hold Santana, to embrace her and tell her everything. _Everything_. She hoped and prayed Santana wouldn't reject her.

"Hi," Santana answered weakly, her eyes brimming again. She fell into Brittany's arms, not fighting when Brittany hugged her tightly, her arms vise-like around Santana's frame.

She'd be lying if she said it didn't feel good, that she didn't want this so badly. Brittany's arms had ached, _physically ached_, for the weight of her wife's body, and now that she had her in them finally, she never wanted to let go again.

"I've missed you." Brittany's voice was barely audible, but she felt her wife nod against her shoulder as she loosened her grip. Pulling away from Santana was difficult but she let it happen.

"You, too," Santana replied, smiling sadly at her. Brittany watched as Santana wiped her tears away, and she did the same. Brittany turned to Maya and stooped down, her smile widening.

"Kitty Cat, what do you want to do today?" she asked lightly, using the pet name for her daughter that they'd used ever since Maya was born, when her weak newborn cries sounded more like a kitten mewling than a baby.

Maya mulled this over for a few seconds, biting her lower lip and humming. Brittany's heart soared a little as she saw how much she looked like Santana when she did that. Not that she wasn't used to it, Maya was like a miniature carbon copy of her mother except for her slightly lighter skin and finer textured hair. But it was ever the more striking after not having seen her daughter in so long. Suddenly Maya broke out into a smile, hands clapping together excitedly.

"Let's go to the zoo! And then Mommy and Uncle Finn can make dinner and we can have a sleepover in the living room!" Maya said enthusiastically, nodding her head in agreeance with herself. Brittany tried not to laugh when she came forward and took Brittany's hands in hers, looking at her very seriously. "Uncle Finn has a giant TV, Mama. It's hugomongous."

"Humongous," Santana correctly lightly, and Brittany chuckled. Just like she used to correct her when they were young kids, and even in their teenage years at that.

Maya tossed a look over her shoulder at her mother, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, that," she said, though Brittany could tell she didn't actually care about the right word. She turned back to Brittany and inched her face closer, making Brittany almost go cross eyed. "It's super big."

"I like the sound of the zoo and dinner, but I'm not so sure I can stay the night here, Kitty Cat," Brittany said softly, pointedly ignoring Santana and Finn's faces. She didn't have to look to know they were both apprehensive; she could feel the awkward shift as soon as the words had left Maya's mouth. Maya pouted, her brow wrinkling.

"Why not?"

"Well, Mama's got to work," Brittany explained. "Did you know I opened a new studio? Auntie Quinn is helping me. It takes a lot of work to make sure it is running just right. I could only get away for today."

"You're really working?" Maya questioned, her face even more confused. Brittany's face soon mirrored hers, unsure of what she meant. She knew what Santana had told their daughter from Quinn and she'd made sure to match up her story accordingly. Not that it wasn't true; the studio was taking up a good chunk of her time, which was something Brittany needed at this point in her life. But past opening and a few minor kinks, there was really nothing too pressing about running the place.

"Of course; what did you think I was doing?" Brittany asked, her eyes flicking to Santana's. Santana looked just as confused, shrugging her shoulders.

"One of the older kids, Nick, said you and Mommy were probably not getting along and that's why me and her are here. He said that he went away with his mom too when his parents were getting a divorce. That's not true?" Maya quizzed, and if she was upset by the prospect of her parents fighting she sure didn't show it, the nature of her questioning purely inquisitive.

"No, that's not true," Santana said quickly, stepping forward to take Maya in her arms. Before she could get there though, Brittany nodded her head, and Maya remained transfixed, peering at her curiously.

"Yes, baby," Brittany said lightly, and a quick glance at her wife's face revealed shock. "But Mommy and I are trying to work out our problems," she went on. Santana's face darkened, and Brittany almost wished she hadn't said it. But she was tired of lying to their child, of acting like everything was fine when it wasn't.

"You can do that when you're apart?" Maya asked.

"Not really, but Mommy needed a break is all, and that's why you two are at Uncle Finn's," Brittany explained, hoping she wasn't taking this honesty thing too far.

"But you guys are going to make it better right?" Maya pressed, her face now worried. "I don't want to be like Nick where his mom and dad don't live together, because I like to see both of you at one time."

"We're going to try to make it better," Santana answered her, speaking for the first time. Brittany was surprised, though she could tell Santana's voice was strained, and her eyes were tearing up again.

"You don't need to worry about it; sometimes adults have disagreements," Finn said, joining the small group on the sidewalk. Brittany almost wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing butting in on this, but she refrained.

"I think as long as you're trying then that is good; that's what you say, right Mama?" Maya smiled now, traces of concern gone from her face.

"Yes, exactly," Brittany agreed, nodding her head.

"What if you guys can't come to a promise?"

"Compromise," Santana said softly, moving her daughter's hair behind her ear. When she met Brittany's eyes, Brittany almost looked away, the hurt burning there scorching her. "No matter what we will always come to a compromise, because we have you, okay? And we both love you very much and we don't want to make you sad," Santana went on. Brittany nodded again.

"Did you say you were sorry?" Maya asked very seriously, her light brown eyes searing into her mother's bright blue ones.

"It doesn't really work that way, not this time," Brittany said, and she heard Santana let out a small shuddering breath.

"If you say you're sorry, that might help," Maya said pointedly, her finger wagging in the blonde's face.

"I'll take your advice into consideration, okay honey?" Brittany responded. She was unsure of where to take the conversation from there, but quickly found no need to steer the topic any further as her daughter spoke again.

"Now that that's all out," Maya said, her voice relieved, "We can focus on this zoo thing. Monkeys first, as always."

"Want to go live with your long lost cousins?" Brittany teased, and Maya rolled her eyes, not bothering to satisfy her with a protest at her tease.

She was relieved that Maya had been able to handle the truth... Though she was young, she had always been oddly mature for her tender six years. She knew though Santana often fought this, insisting on always painting a rosy picture for their child. If Brittany was learning anything though, it was that that wasn't life, not at all. She wasn't sure she wanted Maya to go through life always thinking everything was just as it was supposed to be.

"Can we go now?" Maya asked impatiently, tugging on Brittany's hand. "It's almost noon."

"Yes, Kitty Cat, we can go now. Say bye to Mommy and Uncle Finn," Brittany answered with a smile. She stood as Maya went to hug Santana, the brunette holding her daughter close and kissing the side of her head.

"You be good, okay? Have fun," Santana said softly, and she met Brittany's eyes for a split second.

It was all the eye contact that was needed though, Brittany automatically seeing how upset Santana was with her. She winced slightly as the corners of her mouth drooped. Perfect. She'd come here to try and convince Santana to do sessions with her, and she just made the situation worse. But it wasn't fair that Santana got to decide they should lie to their daughter.

When Maya had finished saying her goodbyes, Brittany and Maya departed for the zoo. The pair spent a few hours there, seeing the animals and even having fun watching the other patrons, too. Brittany relished their small amount of time together, making sure to take each moment in and absorb it fully, commiting them each to memory. She had missed her daughter horribly, and the thought that she was going to go home again without her made her heart ache. They had so much fun together, and Maya was definitely enjoying having her other mother around, animatedly talking about her new school and what she'd been learning, regaling tales of playground feats and expressing a desire to start ballet.

They were just finishing up an ice cream cone in front of the polar bear exhibit when Brittany glanced at her phone for the time. It was almost six, and she knew Santana liked to have dinner by seven at the latest. Reluctantly she put an end to their zoo visit, promising Maya that when they were home again in California they would make a special trip to the San Diego Zoo.

Dinner was awaiting them when they got back to Finn's, along with a slightly miffed Santana. The meal was a rather terse affair, though Finn and Maya seemed oblivious, talking silly and laughing raucously the entire time as Brittany avoided eye contact with her wife and they skirted around heavy converstation topics, instead talking about the new studio and the stupid weather. It was painful for Brittany to sit there, make small talk, and pick at her food when the entire time she just wanted to grab Santana and run away so they could talk. Luckily, when everyone was done and things ready to be cleared away, Finn rose to the occasion.

"Hey, MyMy, why don't you and I clean up, then go get some ice cream sundae stuff from the store before it closes? We can make some to eat during our movie, how's that? Let your moms go for a walk, burn off some of those calories or whatever it is you girls go on about." Finn asked, addressing Maya solely but keenly aware that the other two were watching him. Maya looked confused but nodded her head.

"Yeah, I guess, but what's calories?"

"Something you don't need to worry about," Brittany answered quickly, giving Finn an odd look. She was however grateful for the excuse to sneak away with her wife, her expression softening. Glancing at Santana, she smiled in a strained manner. "How about that walk?" Santana seemed to ponder this for a moment, but she nodded.

"Sure. Let me get my jacket and we can go," she said at length. Brittany's smile quickly became genuine. She found her own jacket and slipped it on, and once Santana had done the same they set out the front door, wandering down the side walk and in an undetermined direction.

As soon as they were out of ear shot of the house, Santana turned to Brittany and shook her head, her face disgusted.

"I can't believe you. I cannot believe you," she said harshly, and Brittany's eyes flew open wide.

"Santana..."

"Why in the hell would you tell our daughter we were having problems? She had no clue!"

Brittany knew her wife was angry, but she highly doubted Maya _really_ had no clue. She was the one who brought it up in the first place, after all. When she said this, Santana's face darkened.

"She is six years old, Brittany, not sixteen. It's not going to help her to know; it's only going to make her worry because she's too young to understand," Santana countered.

"She didn't seem to have that much of an issue understanding earlier," Brittany said with a frown, now starting to get irritated at how Santana was acting. Maya had two mothers, not one. She knew her daughter well enough to know what she could or couldn't handle.

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?" Santana asked hotly. They stopped on a street corner, now facing each other.

"You have to let me parent, too, Santana, and I don't think lying to her is the right thing to do," Brittany said, trying to remain calm.

"Oh _yes_, because _you_ have a perfect track record of doing the right thing!" Santana shot back, hands resting on her hips.

Brittany winced, that dig hurting a little more than it probably should have. It was true, but that shouldn't discredit her ability to parent.

"I've been a parent just as long as you have, Santana," she said angrily, "And what I did has nothing to do with how capable I am."

"I'm just saying, you should have at least warned me, so I could have been more prepared, if that is how you really wanted to handle it," Santana said, her eyes closing as she rested a hand on her forehead. Brittany could tell she was trying to calm herself down, and she stepped a little closer to her wife, taking her elbow gently and bringing her hand from her face. She looked Santana in the eyes and nodded slowly.

"You're right, and I'm sorry."

As soon as that sentence was out of her mouth, the mood shifted considerably, Maya's words from earlier coming back to the both of them at the same time.

"I'm sorry about a lot of things..." Brittany said slowly, searching Santana's face. Tears automatically welled in her brown eyes, and Brittany took yet another step closer. Santana didn't fight it, taking in a ragged breath before she spoke.

"Why did you do it? That's what keeps me up at night, that's what makes me question everything, Brittany. We were happy," she said sadly, wetness coursing down her cheeks as Brittany listened, her heart breaking as she saw the pain she had caused and was still causing her wife. Santana's voice broke, staring back intensely at the blonde. "How could you do what you did?"

Brittany's own eyes were suddenly moist, though her throat ran dry, unable to even squeak out words temporarily. How could she tell Santana the truth? She needed to know why, how it all started... But she didn't want to put that kind of pressure on her wife. And as for all the other times, well... She wasn't even sure herself how that had come to happen. And it wasn't like it really mattered, because she never did and would never really have a good enough explaination for what she'd done. She knew that and she knew deep down, Santana knew it as well. Why was she trying to make this worse for herself by asking why, when there was nothing she could say to that?

"You're not going to like what I have to say, but it's the truth," she said after a few moments, Santana's eyes still burning into hers with such fierceness that Brittany wanted to look away to avoid her gaze.

"Say it."

Taking a deep breath, Brittany quickly rounded up her thoughts, the gist of what she needed to say to Santana without getting into the nitty gritty of it all. It was hard, but she had had plenty of time to think about this in the month she'd be alone. She knew eventually this moment would come, but she'd thought she'd be prepared, or at least know exactly what needed to be said. Now, with her wife standing in front of her in tears, her heart visibly broken, Brittany was almost at a loss. She knew that wasn't acceptable, and pushed through the lost feeling to find the words she needed.

"The truth is, any reason I could give you, it'd be an excuse," she started.

Santana made a move as if to speak back, her expression uncomprehending, but Brittany went on.

"No matter what I say, it won't take away the hurt and the pain I've caused you. And I accept that." Brittany reached for Santana's hands, and she was relieved when the brunette let her take them, clutching her tightly.  
She took a deep breath, knowing admitting this validated everything Santana was probably feeling and had been feeling for the past few years, and would give her the power to simply walk away with no guilt or whatsoever.

"The bottom line is, I made a promise to you and I broke it. I made a committment I couldn't fulfill. And I don't blame you if you want to end it."

Waiting a few seconds to give her heart a chance to stop beating so rapidly, she paused and squeezed Santana's hands. It didn't slow any, and she carried on anyway, unable to stop the words from pouring forth.

"But all of this has made me realize that I was wrong. I have never been more wrong in my entire life."

Santana gave a ragged sob, and Brittany couldn't decide what it really meant, unable to see her facial expression clearly enough through the blinding tears that were falling freely from her eyes, blurring her vision.

"I can't ever forgive myself for what I did to you, what I put you through. You trusted me and I lied to you, openly decieved you. I hurt the one person I love most in this world... So no, any reason I could give you would never justify what I did. All I'm asking, is that you bear with me, one last time, so I can fix myself... I don't want to be this person any more."

Brittany bit her lip, fighting more tears and the urge to break down crying. She didn't know if she could handle it if Santana said no, if Santana wouldn't give her this chance to prove herself. She needed her with every fiber of her being, and not having her was just not an option she was willing to face.

"Please, Santana... I love you. If it doesn't work out, I'll leave this time. I'll go. But let me try to be the person you deserve. Please?"


	9. Songs From Different Times

**A/N: I've decided I truly do hate angst... With as much Brittana!Angst as we get on the show, I think I'm only sticking with fluffy awesomeness for them from now on, LOL! This has been oddly therapeutic to write, I do have to say. Probably not for you all to _read_, though. Our next update is going to be here soon and also the last chapter of this story. I may consider writing an epilogue after that, but with what I have planned it will probably be better not to. ;) Read and review! :D**

* * *

The office was quiet and a little too cold for Santana's comfort. The lighting was muted in such a manner that she was sure it was supposed to be calming, in addition to the odd music playing from an iPod dock resting on the shelf of a built in bookcase filled with medical texts, self help manuals, and books with no names clearly visible on the spine. Her gaze drifted lazily from one title to the next, reading them slowly. _Hope Focused Marriage Counseling_... _Save Your Marriage Today_... _Can We Live Happily Ever After?_ She couldn't help but roll her eyes at some of them, thinking to herself why anyone would even bother reading something by that title.

"Ms. Lopez?"

"Santana," she answered sharply, though she hadn't meant to. She never had taken well to being startled. They'd been sitting in silence so long she'd forgotten there were other people in the room. She turned her attention back to the squatty man sitting across from her in a large wingbacked chair and smiled, her demeanor changing slightly.

"I was just saying how I'm glad that you're here with us today. I know Brittany has been trying to get you to come for some time now. I understand this was a hard choice to make." He looked at her expectantly, resting the clipboard in his hands on his knee as he waited for her to reply.

Santana cut her eyes to Brittany momentarily, knowing that was a mistake as soon as she did it. Brittany was looking rather sullen, shoulders slouched and drawn in on herself. She'd looked like that ever since Santana had shown up in front of the house, ready to go to her therapist with her for their first session. Santana had no idea exactly why, considering how badly Brittany had wanted her to go, and it only served to irritate her. Looking back at the doctor, she smiled wider.

"It was, yes."

"Well, Brittany has told me quite a bit about you. As you know we've also talked about what lead up to your seperation... And I wanted to open today's session with you telling me about that in your own words."

Despite wanting to be open minded, Santana's brow rose. What did it really matter, if they all knew what went down. How many times did he need to hear it to fix it? She decided not to mince words.

"Brittany cheated on me. I caught her finally. I left."

"Did you know that she was cheating on you?" he asked, his question posed as truly inquiring, not to make her feel stupid if she hadn't known. But she had, and she said so. He nodded briefly. "For how long?"

"About four years I guess, I don't really know," she answered, trying not to become flustered at the memories from around that time. Pushing them back she breathed deeply. She felt Brittany shift beside her, but she ignored her.

"Four years. That's a long time to say nothing about what was going on. That must have been difficult for you." He acted as if he was wanting her to speak again, so she did.

"It was, yes."

"How?"

"I'm sorry, I don't really understand the question..." Santana sat up a little straighter, clearing her throat. _How_? What kind of a stupid question was that? It was like asking a mouse how a snake hurt it once it was already in it's belly. Wasn't that obvious?

"Brittany needs to hear what you went through during those four years," he explained, gesturing to her wife. Santana looked at her briefly, noting how Brittany didn't meet her eyes.

"I..." Santana faltered, not really knowing exactly what to say. _How_? "I had to treat her exactly the same as I always did, before, even though I knew what was happening. I had to pretend that... everything was normal when it wasn't."

"Your relationship?"

"Yes. Our relationship, our lives..."

"Your lives weren't normal?"

"No," Santana said quickly, as if that was fairly obvious, almost scowling now. "How could our lives be normal if she was doing what she was doing?"

"Why didn't you confront Brittany when you first found out?" he asked, his pencil posed above his clipboard now. Santana frowned openly.

"Because I was afraid of what would happen when I did." She wasn't stupid. She knew why. She was pretty sure Brittany knew why, too. She settled again, her back sinking into the couch slightly. "I don't think I was wrong to be afraid, all things considered."

"Care to elaborate?" he pressed, jotting down something on his stupid clipboard.

"We're here for one," she said irritably, getting tired of his always asking her the difficult questions. Wasn't Brittany ever going to talk? She scowled slightly, waving her hand haphazardly. "We're seperated. I still haven't gotten any answers to anything, as to why or..." She stopped, remembering she had asked Brittany why. Brittany was probably very sure that that was enough of an answer for her. She wondered if she'd be satisfied with anything Brittany could say, deciding automatically that she probably wouldn't be. Brittany had been right; any reason was only an excuse and would never justify what she did. So perhaps the why didn't matter so much.

"Are you prepared to deal with everything now? I know that you took a break, and some people need that to gather their thoughts. Now that you're here with us, I assume you're ready to start to move past and sift through the feelings and events leading up to where you are today. Am I correct?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Santana retorted, her arms crossing over her chest. She quickly realized that could be seen as defensive, and she sighed, dropping her hands into her lap.

"Alright. I've become aware just from some of the things you've said that perhaps Brittany didn't ever discuss exactly what happened?"

He said it lightly, but Santana could tell from the slight glint of hesitance in his statement that she should be wary. She shook her head slightly. The therapist looked over at Brittany and nodded before returning his gaze back to Santana.

"I think now would be a good time to ask whatever questions you may have. Just know that this is a safe environment, and I'm not going to judge either one of you by what you say here or have done in the past. My job here is to facilitate your reconsiliation, and help you start dialogue. So whatever is on your mind, feel free to express that."

Santana ignored his little spiel and turned to face Brittany, settling her gaze on her wife's face. Brittany met her eyes timidly.

"How long? I know I said I knew for four, but how long was it?"

"Seven years," Brittany answered automatically.

Santana's eyes went a little wide at this news, having suspected it was longer than what she originally thought but having no idea it was almost double in length. She really had been blind, hadn't she? Seven years... She mentally counted back in her mind. Before Maya was born. There went her theory of Santana doting too much attention on their daughter that Brittany felt left out or jealous. Brittany fidgeted slightly, feeling the therapist's eyes on her, silently prompting her.

"But it wasn't constantly... There were gaps. Once it was a whole year between..." Brittany faltered, unable to think of a way to describe what she did without flat out saying it.

"Discrepancies," the doctor offered, and Santana cut her eyes to him dangerously.

"Forgetting to take the trash out is a discrepancy; sleeping with someone who is not your significant other is outright betrayal," Santana corrected, feeling color rise to her cheeks. She looked back at Brittany. "How many? Who?"

"Do you really want to know?" the blonde asked softly, her eyes downcast.

_No_. In reality she didn't want to know any of the details, any names, faces, none of it. The more she knew, the better she was able to imagine it, and she didn't need any more help in that department, her imagination supplying her with more than enough harrowing images in addition to the one time she actually caught Brittany. Her nightmares of seeing her wife in the throes with another person were vivid enough without any factual details. But on the other hand, she admitted to being curious, to wanting to know what exactly had won out over her for _seven_ years. How many people had it taken to satiate her wife when she couldn't? Were they hotter? Smarter? More daring? What had drawn Brittany to them, made them so inticing that she couldn't help herself?

"Yes," Santana said in reply, her eyes boring into Brittany's even though her wife refused to meet them at this point.

"There were seven. Two girls, five guys. You know most of them..."

"Chris," Santana acknowledged, a flash of his panicked face when she'd walked in on them causing her to see red. She waited for Brittany to go on.

"Carrie, Elaina..."

Santana nodded, the two women's faces appearing in her mind's eye easily. One was a make up artist and the other a dancer Santana could admit to finding attractive. Okay, so the girls were pretty. That much was obvious, made a little sense.

"Devon, Josh, Logan..." Brittany hesitated clearing her throat before declaring the last name. "Tyson."

At this Santana visibly started, hearing the name of Brittany's dance company's director. He was an older man, seemingly nice. He never seemed all that interested when she came to visit the studio, though he was polite, and she really couldn't say she knew too much about him. But that was Brittany's _boss_, and wrong on so many levels she couldn't even comprehend. She already was sickened by this entire debacle, but this made her stomach churn even more.

When Brittany saw her face, her expression hardened, the blonde's face setting in a grimace. After a few moments it faltered, and Brittany broke down in ragged sobs, shoulders shaking as she just let the tears fall.

Santana made no moves to comfort her, stoic beside her hysterical wife. Had she not just been completely blown away, she might have tried, even in their fractured state of matrimony. As it was, she almost got a hint of satisfaction out of listening to the blonde cry, thinking of all the times she'd done exactly the same thing. Finally Brittany was the one feeling pain, obvious, gut-wrenching _pain_.

At the same time, it saddened her. Brittany wasn't exactly unemotional, in fact she was better with her feelings than Santana was, but when she cried, she meant it. Santana'd almost never seen her carry on like this before, and though it was probably deserved, it was unsettling, and her stomach was doing awkward flips at each ragged breath Brittany attempted to suck in.

"Brittany, I know this is hard for you, but Santana needs to know how this started," the therapist said softly, leaning in closer to Brittany. She met his eyes for brief second, trying to stifle her crying as she nodded. She turned to Santana then and fresh tears spilled over once more.

"Do you remember, when I got my first lead?" she asked waterly, and Santana nodded slowly. It was about a year before Maya was born, when everything really started looking up. She always thought of that first big job as the one that set their life in motion... It enabled them to afford the baby they dreamed of for so long, amongst other things, and lead Brittany to continuing leads and choice teaching positions within the company. Their lifestyle was thanks to that first job.

"I got it because I slept with Tyson."

Santana blinked. All this time she'd thought somebody had finally seen what true talent Brittany possessed, and that her first lead had been well deserved... But it was a lie. Like so many other things.

"You know you didn't have to do that; why would you have done something so stupid?" Santana said, her voice almost pleading. They hadn't been struggling before then, it wasn't like they absolutely needed that opportunity as far as money went. For Brittany's career obviously it was vital, but it would have come in due time, surely. What would have driven Brittany to do something so low as to sleep around for a position?

"I _did_ have to... He offered to pay me, to pay for the IVF for you to get pregnant," she explained, her voice becoming panicky. "He knew we'd been having a hard time, and he knew how much we wanted to get pregnant. He offered and I couldn't turn it down, I just couldn't. I did it for you, so we could have a family," Brittany said through fresh sobs. "I'm sorry, Santana, I know it was wrong but at the time it seemed like the only way, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry..."

She had taken up Santana's hand in her fervor, face strained and fat tears rolling down her cheeks completely unchecked. But none of this registered as Santana sat there, completely dumbstruck, wide eyes unseeing as she was lost in her own rapidly firing thoughts.

How could she not have seen this? She'd asked herself this question probably a million times, but now it was as if for the first time. How could she have missed something this monumental, something that truly affected everything they've ever had together? The impact of every single moment since that first job being an absolute lie... Her own daughter, her pride, her joy, only given to her because Brittany lied and decieved her, played a dangerous game that it turned out only Santana could really lose. How could Brittany do that?

"You disgust me," she finally choked out. "You make me feel ashamed and revolted. How could you do this to me? To our family? How dare you!" She was shaking now, quivering with outrage that quickly gave way to desolation, her own tears coming quickly. She stood up from the couch, shoving Brittany's hands from her own. Her chest ached, as if she couldn't quite get her heart to beat as it needed to, as if it was truly breaking into thousands of tiny pieces.

"Ms. Lopez, please sit, and let's talk through this. I know this was a big shock but you need to talk to your wife," the therapist urged, clipboard forgotten at his side as he stood, a hand out to Santana.

"I'm done talking," she snapped, though the effort was hard as her tears were choking her.

Brittany was now soundlessly sobbing, but Santana didn't care. Looking at her, her own face a mixture of misery and anguish, she shook her head at the blonde.

"I can't believe I ever trusted you. I can't believe I ever loved you."


	10. Broken

**A/N: HORROR. HORROR. If there is enough interest there will be an epilogue but as it is... I never planned for it to turn out like this, I really didn't. **

**EDIT: I can't. I simply can't. It's not over. Everyone calm down. I'm just as horrified as the rest of you. New direction to save us all from horror. **

* * *

"I'm sorry!" Brittany cried out, though her voice was hoarse and barely discernable through her sobbing. "I thought I had to; I _did_ have to!"

"And then after?" Santana asked, hands balling into fists at her side as she searched her wife's face. "And then after _that_, why did you keep doing it? You didn't cause enough damage just doing it once?" Santana screamed, unable to stop herself.

"You never noticed! You never said anything! I kept doing it because I resented you for not realizing what I had done! I felt so bad, Santana, and you never even saw a thing wrong until two years later! How could you not have known? Why wouldn't you have said anything once you did?" Brittany yelled back, more able to control her voice now, though she was still crying.

Santana's face blanched, not expecting this at all, and she stopped breathing. Brittany looked at her pleadingly, a sob escaping her lips. Santana opened her mouth to scream at her again, but Brittany got her own words out before she could.

"Why didn't you stop me?"

Santana stopped mid reaction, her expression turning incredulous. Done. She was done.

"I hate you."

With those as her final words she fled from the office, ignoring the therapist's calls for her to come back and talk about this, to fucking _feel feelings_. Santana was sure she felt enough of those on her own, and she didn't need his help. She didn't want it, not now especially, Brittany's words echoing through her mind as she ran through the front door and out into the parking lot.

Brittany had run out after her, covering the distance of the parking lot in record time before reaching her where she stood at her car, taking Santana's upper arm in her grasp and pulling her.

"Santana please! Don't do this! Come back, come back and let me finish, I'm sorry! Don't let this happen again!" she shrieked, her high pitched cries of desperation falling on deaf ears as Santana simply shook her head, not processing anything besides the look of distress and fear on the blonde's face. It didn't matter.

She threw herself to the ground to wrest herself from Brittany's death grip, shocking Brittany into letting go. When she was free of her grasp, she got into her car, Brittany screaming at the top of her lungs as she turned the key in the ignition.

Without checking to see if she was going to hit anything, she backed out of the parking space and just started driving, her mind going a mile a minute as she tried to swallow all of the information that had just been presented to her. Her wife, the one who at the tender age of sixteen she would have died for, the one she'd given her all for, done everything in her power to make sure she was happy... She had no career of her own to support Brittany's, no life outside her family and home. And she hadn't cared one bit, because Brittany was all she needed. Brittany and Maya.

The web of lies she'd spun was even bigger than she could have ever imagined, her head reeling. Maya's existence was because of what Brittany did. All of the pain and hurt, all of this because they'd wanted a baby, and Brittany, simplistic Brittany, thought that was the only way. She slammed her hands against the wheel as she let out a frustrated wail.

She would have waited. She'd have waited years; she'd _never_ have had children if it meant she didn't have to know what this felt like. But would she? Could she just say that, knowing it meant she would have never had Maya? When she'd basically given up on Brittany, Maya was her redemption. She'd started living her life for her daughter. Her beautiful, smart, funny, brilliant little girl, all thanks to Brittany cheating on her. She felt horribly tricked, all this time never knowing the ultimate price she'd have to pay for her happiness. Was it worth it?

* * *

She didn't know how she ended up here, pulling over on the side of the road and parking. The place was a familiar sight, and normally would have been soothing. She and Brittany had come here many an afternoon when they had first moved to the scary land of California to watch the trains pass through, reading the colorful graffiti on the sides of the train cars and trying to decipher what it meant, or making up their own stories about the symbols and badly misspelled words. Brittany had found the secluded spot one day on a jog, and once she'd been able to drag Santana out there they were often able to be found out in the middle of nowhere, just sitting by the tracks and goofing off, talking of the future and making plans together. They could spend hours there just watching those stupid trains go by.

It would have reminded her of a simpler time, when they were just starting out and unable to afford doing too many extravagent things. When things were easy, and they weren't almost divorcing, they weren't keeping secrets from each other. Secrets that ruined lives. Their lives.

Now though, it reminded her how little she truly knew her wife. That Brittany who she used to spent lazy mornings just laying in bed with, who she'd married despite her parents' disapproval, who she had vowed to make her _own_ family with, who she'd built her life around, was not the Brittany she was now. The life they'd built together was crumbling and she was pretty sure there was no way they could get back to that state of being. Brittany had changed. She had changed. Neither were people she wanted to know or admit to being.

She went to stand beside the tracks, the gravel scuffing up her boots as she dragged her feet slowly. She wasn't even really aware she was there, but once she was, she sat down on the wooden slats between metal rails and cried harder.

All of this was really her fault, in the end. Brittany did what she did to please _her_, to make _her_ dreams come true... Entirely self-lessly she gave herself to another, just to give Santana what she wanted so badly. Santana knew inside that Brittany wouldn't have done anything like that unless she'd had a reason, and Santana screamed out into the empty space around her, knowing the reason was her.

If Santana had been more patient maybe, been less needy, Brittany wouldn't have felt the need to do what she did. And then... even after... If she'd just been smarter, if she'd just picked up on what was happening to her wife, the guilt that must have been eating her alive at the time, she could have put an end to it. But it had gone on, and even once she knew, she didn't say anything. She was blinded, thinking only of how this would affect them as a couple, make their lives impossible if she said anything, never considering what it was that drove Brittany to do what she did. Didn't she know her wife would never do that unless she had some reason? She could have saved them both so much trouble...

But she was so afraid. And she was right. She was right, look at what was happening now that everything was coming out into the open. Nothing could fix this, not even if she could stand the thought of being around Brittany any more. Not because she hated her, no, now she realized she'd been wrong... She hated herself. Nothing could be said or done to erase this catastrophic betrayal of everything they'd ever had, or hoped to have. There was no future here, and the past was little more than a horror story.

In the distance, the whistle of a train could be heard through her sobs.

_"San! One's coming!" Brittany shouted gleefully, her hands tightening around Santana's as she leaned forward from her spot on the grass in Santana's embrace, her back against the brunette's chest. Santana smiled, kissing the side of her new wife's face as she brought her back closer, nuzzling against bare shoulder uncovered by her tank top.  
_

_"Right on time," Santana remarked, and the two were silent for a few moments as the train approached at high speed, both facsinated by the locomotive traversing the wide expanse so rapidly.  
_

_"Do you ever think about when we're old? Like not thirty or something, but really super old," Brittany asked softly. Santana wasn't sure where the question had come from, but she was used to Brittany's nonsequitors and not bothered by them.  
_

_"I do sometimes," she admitted, lazily running a hand through Brittany's blonde locks. They shone like spun gold in the sunlight, almost glinting. Brittany shifted closer still, a finger tracing circles on Santana's forearm.  
_

_"What do you think it'll be like?"  
_

_"I think we'll be deaf from all that Ke$ha you make us listen to at an earsplitting volume," Santana said with a laugh, and Brittany squirmed in her grasp, turning to look at Santana with a serious face. Santana just smiled. "But we'll get hearing aids, just so you can hear me tell you I love you, even when we're ninety." Brittany seemed satisfied with this, facing forward again and watching the train speed by them.  
_

_"I think we won't be deaf. I think we'll still be living on our own, just loving each other. With our kids and grandkids and great grandkids maybe. That's a lot of love. Love keeps you young at heart, doesn't it?"  
_

_"I hope so," Santana replied, though at eighteen she couldn't really say for sure if that was true.  
_

_"And even if we do get old like everyone else, it won't really matter."  
_

_"And why is that?" Santana asked, an amused smile on her face. Brittany turned around, crinkling her nose at her wife.  
_

_"Because I'll have you, silly," she answered simply. _

She was jolted out of her reverie by the train's whistle again. This time the big metal beast was in sight, barreling down the track towards her. She made no effort to move, her body too weak from crying as she wept with her entire being. Why should she bother? Everything she'd ever loved was a lie, every ounce of happiness she had felt was contrived through a horrible means.

Instead she looked up at the oncoming train, it's image blurred through her tears, and whispered softly to herself.

"Right on time."


	11. Come Home

**A/N: Everyone calm down. You know very well I couldn't just leave it like that. Sometimes you do need a kick in the ass to re-motivate you. So thanks for that! **

* * *

"Santana?"

The brunette turned her head sharply, though her vision was still blurred. She had heard a car pulling up but hadn't thought anything of it, too racked with grief to care. When she saw Brittany there, out of her vehicle but a hand still on the door handle, unsure if she should really be there or not.

"How did you know I'd be here?" Santana said thickly, her throat coated from crying. What did it really matter? After what she'd almost done, what did it matter if Brittany was here to see her like this? She was too overwrought, a hurricane of emotions. Nothing made sense any more; everything she thought she'd known was a lie and everything she didn't believe was now truer than true: she had a part in causing her own pain, in causing Brittany's. If Brittany was there to see her this way, it didn't matter.

"A guess..."

Honestly Brittany hadn't known, she'd just wanted to go to a place that reminded her of a time when things weren't falling down around her. The fact that Santana was there had been a shock, but she tried to contain herself now that her presence had been made known.

Brittany shut her door softly and dropped to the ground beside her wife, wanting so badly to take her in her arms but knowing it wouldn't be well recieved. Instead she sighed heavily, noting how close they were to the train tracks.

"Should we move back?" she suggested softly, but Santana waved her off, wiping her face with her other hand.

"No, we'll be fine," Santana answered. "Trust me. The train passes on the tracks next to these anyway."

Brittany seemed to undestand the signifigance of her words from the heaviness in which she said them, face darkening as she crossed her legs, her knee bumping Santana's. She didn't bother moving it, and Santana didn't move away either.

The two sat there for a long time, neither saying a word. Santana couldn't even look at Brittany, and she sat with her eyes over flowing, hands in her lap limply.

"It's okay to hate me," Brittany said after awhile, her voice breaking. "I understand."

"I hate us both," Santana replied. She kept her eyes downward, but her back straightened as she said it. "I hate you, I hate myself... I can't stand this, Brittany. I can't." She shook her head, more tears falling as she sniffed. She looked up at Brittany and let out a ragged breath. "Did you ever think we'd end up like this?"

"No," Brittany said quickly. Her blue eyes were clouded with pain and guilt. "I never."

"How did we let it get this far?"

"I don't... In the end, didn't we... out of love? What I did, was for you... And what you did... That was for me. And Maya," Brittany's thoughts were halting, unable to articulate everything at once. Santana understood her though, slowly nodding.

"That doesn't make it okay," Santana said vehemently, drawing her knees up to her chest. "It doesn't change anything that happened. You still cheated. I still ignored everything until it was basically shoved in my face. We're still broken."

Brittany nodded, her own tears falling unchecked again.

"I know."

The words were simple, but for the first time, Santana felt like Brittany truly understood. It took two to get to this point, no matter who started it, no matter who had it worse or had hurt the other more. Here she was, completely ready to sit on some stupid train tracks, and she wasn't alone, not really. All the guilt, fear, and hurt she felt, Brittany felt it too, perhaps even worse. Remorse was a horrible thing to feel, and even worse to feel alone.

Santana shook, her eyes meeting Brittany's as her lip trembled and the first thought in her mind tumbling forth in a rush.

"Can't you just hold me?"

Wordlessly, Brittany pitched forward, enveloping Santana in her arms and burrying her face in the side of Santana's neck. Santana's arms flew around her waist, sobs barking forth from her throat as if she hadn't just spent the last hour crying on her own. She hadn't known it was possible to carry on like this, but when your heart broke, there must be no limit on the amount of tears you can cry.

Lost in their own sorrow and finally sharing in the other's, the pair lingered in each other's arms, not caring where they were or how long it lasted, needing to feel some sort of comfort in what was perhaps their darkest hour, both as a couple and as individuals. Being mad didn't matter right now, being right or wrong didn't matter. Knowing they weren't alone did.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry, Santana... I never wanted it to come to this, I never..." Brittany whispered, her lips brushing against Santana's collarbone's as she spoke.

"Don't say anything, not right now," Santana said quickly, clutching the blonde even closer. "Just don't say anything." She kept repeating the phrase until she was hoarse, until the heaving of Brittany's chest from her own sobs had subsided.

The blonde rubbed her face on her shoulder, wiping her tears away on the fabric of her jacket. She cleared her throat.

"Let's get out of here, okay?"

Santana nodded, and together they stood, dusting the dirt and dust from their jeans.

"I just want to fix it," Santana said in a low voice, taking Brittany's hand in her own lightly. She searched Brittany's face slowly, biting her lip.

"Can we?" the blonde replied, her question lilting up sharply.

"I don't know," Santana said with a sigh. "We can't undo it..."

"We can face it," Brittany said firmly. "We can face it together. And maybe we can..." Brittany stopped, her gaze dropping again. "I don't know either."

"Together then?" Santana suggested, holding her breath for the blonde's response. Everything still wasn't out in the open, and even without the rest of it, it was going to be hard enough, if not impossible. She wasn't sure she was strong enough for this, not sure if Brittany was either, at least not like this. Not alone.

Brittany nodded after a few moments, a small and still sad smile forming on her lips as she looked at her wife.

"Together."


End file.
